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THE GOLDEN VIOLET.
Yet his eye shines bright, as if not yet its last of fame were won;
Six sons stand ready in their arms to do as he has done.
"Now take your way, ye Laras bold, and to the battle ride;
For loud upon the Christian air are vaunts of Moorish pride:
Your six white steeds stand at the gate; go forth, and let me see
Who will return the first and bring a Moslem head to me."
Forth they went, six gallant knights, all mail'd from head to heel;
Is it not death to him who first their fiery strength shall feel?
