“When my soul these limbs forsaking Eager seeks a purer air, From my breast the cold heart taking, Give it to Belerma’s care.

“Say, I of my lands possessor Named her with my dying breath: Say, my lips I op’d to bless her, Ere they closed for aye in death:

“Twice a week too⁠—how sincerely I adored her, Cousin, say⁠— Twice a week for one who dearly Loved her, Cousin, bid her pray.

“Montesinos, now the hour Marked by fate is near at hand: Lo! my arm has lost its power! Lo! I drop my trusty brand!

“Eyes, which forth beheld me going, Homewards ne’er shall see me hie! Cousin, stop those tears o’er-flowing, Let me on thy bosom die!

“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.