The hoods of green from their shoulders hang and flutter in the wind.
They carry targets blazoned bright with scimitars arow,
But each deadly blade is deftly made into a Cupid's bow.
A shining legend can be seen in letters ranged above;
And "Fire and Blood" the motto runs. It speaks of war and love.
In double file a company of warriors succeed;
The bold Aliatares come mounted on Arab steeds.
The livery that they wear is dyed in tint of crimson red;
And flower and leaf in white relief its surface overspread.
The globe of heaven, which many a star and constellation strow,
Borne upon Atlas' shoulders, is the blazon that they show.
And a Moor of Aliatar this motto does express,
Written upon a streamer, "I Endure through Weariness."
The Adelifas follow; a mighty race are they.
Their armor is more costly, their mantles are more gay.
Of bright carnation is the web, enriched with saffron streaks,
And for favors there are fluttering veils upon their helmet peaks.
A globe they blazon on their shields, but it is bruised and broke
By a savage with a bludgeon, who deals it many a stroke;
And a rod, and underneath it this motto tells the tale,
All written in Arabian scrip. It says, "The Strong Prevail."
The eight Azarques following these into the plaza spring,
With air of haughty arrogance they gallop round the ring.
Of blue and purple and pale gold are the mantles that they wear,
And for plumes they carry amulets that dangle high in air.
On their left arm are their targets, painted a dazzling green.
The orb of heaven is outlined there on which two hands are seen,
The motto, "Green is paramount," is lettered full in view;
Its arrogance explains to all those targets' vivid hue.
Then foams the King in rage to see his doting love was fleered,