“Thy kind hand my eyelids closing, Yet one favour I implore: Pray thou for my soul’s reposing, When my heart shall throb no more;

“So shall Jesus, still attending Gracious to a Christian’s vow, Pleased accept my ghost ascending, And a seat in heaven allow.”

Thus spoke gallant Durandarte; Soon his brave heart broke in twain. Greatly joyed the moorish party, That the gallant knight was slain.

Bitter weeping Montesinos Took from him his helm and glaive; Bitter weeping Montesinos Dug his gallant cousin’s grave.

To perform his promise made, he Cut the heart from out the breast, That Belerma, wretched lady! Might receive the last bequest.