On their left arm are their targets, painted a dazzling green.
The orb of heaven is outlined there on which two hands are seen,
The motto, "Green is paramount," is lettered full in view;
Its arrogance explains to all those targets' vivid hue.
Then foams the King in rage to see his doting love was fleered,
And his heart is filled with bitter thought as that proud shield
appeared.
And he called the warden of his keep, Celin his henchman tried,
And he pointed to Azarque, and, flushed with anger, cried--
"The sun upon that haughty shield myself will bid it set;
It works some mischief upon me, like an evil amulet."
Azarque drew his ready lance, his strong arm hurled it high,
The light shaft soared amid the clouds, and vanished in the sky.
And those whose vision followed it grew dizzy at the sight,
They knew not whither it had flown, nor where it would alight.
The ladies of the burgesses at many a window press
To see the javelin from his hand rise with such readiness,
And those who on the platform were seated with the King
Bent back to see how well the cane that gallant Moor could fling.
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