At this he turned, and, as the bull drew near,
Shunned, and received him on his pointed spear:
The lance broke short, the beast then bellowed loud,
And his strong neck to a new onset bowed.
The undaunted youth
Then drew; and, from his saddle bending low,
Just where the neck did to the shoulders grow,
With his full force discharged a deadly blow.
Not heads of poppies (when they reap the grain)
Fall with more ease before the labouring swain,
Than fell this head:
It fell so quick, it did even death prevent,
And made imperfect bellowings as it went.
Then all the trumpets victory did sound,
And yet their clangors in our shouts were drown'd.
[_A confused noise within.

Boab._ The alarm-bell rings from our Alhambra walls,
And from the streets sound drums and ataballes.
[_Within, a bell, drums, and trumpets._

_Enter a Messenger._

How now? from whence proceed these new alarms?

_Mess._ The two fierce factions are again in arms;
And, changing into blood the day's delight,
The Zegrys with the Abencerrages fight;
On each side their allies and friends appear;
The Macas here, the Alabezes there: