Stiffly sate he in his saddle, grimly looked around the ring,
Laid his lance within the rest, and shook his gauntlet at the King.
“Oh, thou foul and faithless traitor! wouldst thou play me false again?
Welcome death and welcome torture, rather than the captive’s chain!
But I give thee warning, caitiff! Look thou sharply to thine eye—
Unavenged, at least in harness, Gomersalez shall not die!”
Thus he spoke, and Bavieca like an arrow forward flew,
Right and left the Moorish squadron wheeled to let the hero through;
Brightly gleamed the lance of vengeance—fiercely sped the fatal thrust—
From his throne the Moorish monarch tumbled lifeless in the dust.
Speed thee, speed thee, Bavieca! speed thee faster than the wind!
Life and freedom are before thee, deadly foes give chase behind!
Speed thee up the sloping spring-board; o’er the bridge that spans the seas;
Yonder gauzy moon will light thee through the grove of canvas trees.
Close before thee Pampeluna spreads her painted pasteboard gate!
Speed thee onward, gallant courser, speed thee with thy knightly freight!
Victory! The town receives them!—Gentle ladies, this the tale is,
Which I learned in Astley’s Circus, of Fernando Gomersalez.
