With tearful cheeks, appealingly!
They sadly mourn, those holy men,
The fierceness of the Saracen.
There breaks a red and sullen morrow
O'er Christendom's extended field;
The grief, that springs from love and sorrow,
In every bosom is revealed;
The hearth is left in sudden zeal,
And each one grasps the cross and steel.
The armèd bands are chafing madly,