80
“But now the Vet’ran—doomed by years to ease and gentle rest, from life of toil and teen, be’ing in the city, down whose pastured leas Mondego’s wavelets kiss the hem of green;— when learnt how close his son beleaguer’d is in Santarem by Moormen blind with spleen, close from the City flies the fone to meet, age-idlesse spurning with fast eager feet.