His own good falchion, with its burnish’d blade
He touch’d Alphonso’s neck, and with a kiss
Gave him his rank in arms.
Thus long the crowd
Had look’d intently on, in silence hush’d;
Loud and continuous now with one accord,
Shout following shout, their acclamations rose;
Blessings were breathed from every heart, and joy,
Powerful alike in all, which as with force
Of an inebriating cup inspired