Page:Modern poets and poetry of Spain.djvu/289

Followed by two esquires alone,
The Master scarce in haste
Upon the royal vestibule
His foot confiding placed,
Where various men-at-arms were seen,
In double iron barrM,
Pacing along as sentinels
The entrance stairs to guard,
When over from the balcony,
Like fiendish shape of ill,
The King looks out, and "Mace-bearers,"
He shouts, "the Master kill."
Quick as the lightning in a storm
Comes ere the thunders call,
Six well-appointed maces down
On Don Fadrique fall.
He raised his hand to grasp his sword,
But in his tabard's gird
The hilt was bound, impossible
To draw it at the word.
He fell, a sea of blood around
Ran from the shatterM brain,
Raising a cry which reached to heaven,
And doubtless not in vain.
Of deed so horrible the news

At once around was spread,