Fear not but we shall find a resting place,
The Almighty’s hand is on us.
They went forth,
They cross’d the stream, and when Romano turn’d
For his last look toward the Caulian towers,
Far off the Moorish standards in the light
Of morn were glittering, where the miscreant host
Toward the Lusitanian capital
To lay their siege advanced; the eastern breeze
Bore to the fearful travellers far away