That cut the Moslem to the quick,
His weapon lies in peace,—
Oh, it would warm them in a trice,
If they could only have a spice
Of his old mace in Greece!
The fam'd Rinaldo lies a-cold,
And Tancred too, and Godfrey bold,
That scal'd the holy wall!
No Saracen meets Paladin,
We hear of no great Saladin,