Two Africans had stood, who held in charge
Count Eudon. When they saw their countrymen
Falter, give way, and fly before the foe,
One turn’d toward him with malignant rage,
And saying, Infidel! thou shalt not live
To join their triumph! aim’d against his neck
The moony falchion’s point. His comrade raised
A hasty hand and turn’d its edge aside,
Yet so that o’er the shoulder glancing down
It scarr’d him as it pass’d. The murderous Moor,