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His legs are short, his hams are thick, his hoofs are black as night, Like a strong flail he holds his tail in fierceness of his might; Like something molten out of iron, or hewn from forth the rock, Harpado of Xarama stands, to bide the alcaydé's shock.
I like his person, admire his genius, and respect his immense erudition, but non omnia. In point of reasoning and political judgment he is a perfect Harpado nothing better than a wild bull.
Once more, once more; in dust and gore to ruin must thou reel In vain, in vain thou tearest the sand with furious heel In vain, in vain, thou noble beast, I see, I see thee stagger, Now keen and cold thy neck must hold the stern alcaydé's dagger! They have slipped a noose around his feet, six horses are brought in, And away they drag Harpado with a loud and joyful din.
"Turn, Gazul, turn," the people cry the third comes up behind, Low to the sand his head holds he, his nostrils snuff the wind; The mountaineers that lead the steers, without stand whispering low, "Now thinks this proud alcaydé to stun Harpado so?"
Now stoop thee, lady, from thy stand, and the ring of price bestow Upon Gazul of Algava, that hath laid Harpado low. Of all the blood of Zegri, the chief is Lisaro, To wield rejón like him is none, or javelin to throw; From the place of his dominion, he ere the dawn doth go, From Alcala de Henares, he rides in weed of woe.
Now stops the drum close, close they come thrice meet, and thrice give back; The white foam of Harpado lies on the charger's breast of black The white foam of the charger on Harpado's front of dun Once more advance upon his lance once more, thou fearless one!
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