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.