34 Now sinks the Crescent, now the Cross,
As the fierce hosts assail;
But what against o'erwhelming might
Can valour's self avail?
35 Campeador, all bathed in blood,
Spurred on his horse amain;
And, Santiago! cried aloud,
For Bivar and for Spain!
36 Now Alvar Fanez and his men,
Who crouched in thickets low,
Leaped up, and, with the lightning glance,
Rushed, shouting, on the foe.
37 The Moors, who saw their pennons gay
All waving in the wind,
Fled in dismay, for still they feared,
A greater host behind.
38 The Crescent falls. Pursue! pursue!
Haste—spur along the plain!
See where they sink—see where they lie,
The fainting and the slain!
39 Of fifty thousand, who at morn
Came forth in armour bright,
Scarce fifteen thousand souls were left,
To tell the tale at night.
40 The Cid then wiped his bloody brow,
And thus was heard to say:
Well, Bavieca, hast thou sped,
My noble horse, to-day!
41 If thousands then escaped the sword,
Let none the Cid condemn;
For they were swept into the sea,
And the surge went over them.
42 There's many a maid of Tetuan,
All day shall sit and weep,
But never see her lover's sail
Shine on the northern deep.
43 There's many a mother, with her babe,
Shall pace the sounding shore,
And think upon its father's smile,
Whom she shall see no more.