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Yet did he deem some Christian troop
Was in the darkness hovering by;
And at the thought, with terror struck,
He turned in eager haste to fly!
Darraja roused him at the din;
And with loud voice to Tarfe spoke;
He knew him from his cloak of blue,
For he had given the Moor that cloak!

THE TWO MOORISH KNIGHTS
Upon two mares both strong and fleet,
White as the cygnet's snowy wing,
Beneath Granada's arching gate
Passed Tarfe and Belchite's King.
Like beauty marks the dames they serve;
Like colors at their spear-heads wave;
While Tarfe kneels at Celia's feet,
The King is Dorelice's slave.
With belts of green and azure blue
The gallant knights are girded fair;
Their cloaks with golden orange glow,
And verdant are the vests they wear.
And gold and silver, side by side,
Are glittering on their garment's hem;
And, mingled with the metals, shine
The lights of many a costly gem.
Their veils are woven iron-gray,
The melancholy tint of woe--
And o'er their heads the dusky plumes
Their grief and desolation show.


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