From Cordova’s smiling fountains,
From Elvira’s winter snows,
Sea-beat coast and inland mountains,
Pressing northward ’gainst the foe
Andalusia’s banners go.
Onward, on to victory passing,
O’er the crest of tufted hill,
Scimitars and lances flashing,
Soon of death to drink their fill,
Pouring forth in ruddy rill.
Through Cantabria’s mountains far,
Pierced Almansûr’s Moorish lance
Through Leon, Castille and Navarre
Moordom’s noblest emirs prance.
Eastern banners gaily dance.
Sons of Islam, knight, commander,
Line on line they outward span,
With the lance of great Almansûr
Glittering in the Muslim van,
Defender of the law, Koran.
Scourge of thy foemen, soldier of Hisham,
Victorious wert thou in every campaign,
Greatest sword that ever Islam
Launched o’er ringing fields of Spain,
Ever drenched her bleeding plain.
In earth’s embrace now calmly sleeping,
O’er war’s red ranks thy banners wave
No more, nor rolling Takbir sweeping,
Low lies the chief, the dauntless brave;
Pliant tall cypresses over his grave.