XXXV.
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h, lovely Spain! renowned, romantic Land!Where is that standard[58] which Pelagio bore,[bu]When Cava's traitor-sire first called the bandThat dyed thy mountain streams with Gothic gore?[7.B.]Where are those bloody Banners which of yoreWaved o'er thy sons, victorious to the gale,And drove at last the spoilers to their shore?[59]Red gleamed the Cross, and waned the Crescent pale,[bv]While Afric's echoes thrilled with Moorish matrons' wail.
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