Well she knows the airy gallop of his mettled alazan,[5]
Light as any antelope upon the Hills of Gavilan.
She would know him mid a thousand, by his free and gallant air;
By the featly-knit sarape,[6] such as wealthy traders wear;
By his broidered calzoneros[7] and his saddle, gaily spread,
With its cantle rimmed with silver, and its horn a lion's head.
None like he the light riata[8] on the maddened bull can throw;
None amid the mountain-canons, track like he the stealthy doe;
And at all the Mission festals, few indeed the revelers are
Who can dance with him the jota, touch with him the gay guitar.