So saying, on her knees he bow’d his head;
She raised her hands to Heaven and blest her child;
Then bending forward, as he rose, embraced
And claspt him to her heart, and cried, Once more
Theodofred, with pride behold thy son!
XX.
THE MOORISH CAMP.
The times are big with tidings; every hour
From east and west and south the breathless scouts
Bring swift alarums in; the gathering foe,