Brave men and beauteous women in crowds were standing by.
The trumpets blew in merry strain, the Moorish horns resound,
And the strain of joy was echoed from every castle round.
And from his colt dismounting he laid his lance aside,
And greeted all the multitude that filled the plaza wide.
Then to the strong tower of the place he hurried from the street,
And as he went a thousand times his lips would still repeat:
"And, Fortune, do thy worst; it is not meant,
By Allah, that his knight should die in banishment."