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HIS RISING.
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    But the march of the viewless train
    Went on to a royal fane,
        Where a priest his night-hymn sang.

There was knocking that shook the marble floor,
        And a voice at the gate, which said—
"That the Cid Ruy Diez, the Campeador,
        Was there in his arms array'd;
    And that with him, from the tomb,
    Had the Count Gonzalez come,
        With a host, uprisen to aid!

"And they came for the buried king that lay
        At rest in that ancient fane;
For he must be arm'd on the battle-day,
        With them, to deliver Spain!"
    —Then the march went sounding on,
    And the Moors, by noontide sun,
        Were dust on Tolosa's plain.