Constance De Castile A Poem, in Ten Cantos. By William Sotheby |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
 | IV. |
| V. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
 | Constance De Castile |  |
VI.
While every eye on Edward turn'd,And his bright cheek with glory burn'd,
And his brave hand, by justice sway'd,
Had half unsheath'd his shining blade:
Pedro by ardent hope inflam'd
Rose, and, o'er Constance, thus exclaim'd,
144
“For love, for glory couch the spear.
“Champion! arise—unsheath the sword:
“Free this fair Maid from Afric's lord:
“The veil that hides her charms remove,
“By valour win the Virgin's love:
“And, conqu'ring, on the field of fame
“Thy bride, Castillia's heiress, claim.”
| Constance De Castile | |