Then to his lady's grace he turned, and she to him did throw
A scarf from out her balcony was whiter than the snow.
With the life-blood of the slaughtered lords all slippery is the sand,
Yet proudly in the centre hath Gazul ta'en his stand;
And ladies look with heaving breast, and lords with anxious eye,
But firmly he extends his arm--his look is calm and high.
Three bulls against the knight are loosed, and two come roaring on,
He rises high in stirrup, forth stretching his rejón;
Each furious beast upon the breast he deals him such a blow
He blindly totters and gives back, across the sand to go.