Pass’d on, and breaking through the turban’d files
Open’d a path. Pelayo, who that day
Fought in the ranks afoot, for other war
Yet unequipp’d, pursued and smote the foe,
But ever on Alphonso at his side
Retain’d a watchful eye. The gallant boy
Gave his good sword that hour its earliest taste
Of Moorish blood, ... that sword whose hungry edge,
Through the fair course of all his glorious life
From that auspicious day, was fed so well.