Chapter 28

He faltered thanks to Heaven for life, Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife; Next on his foe his look he cast, Whose every gasp appeared his last In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid,-- 'Poor Blanche! thy wrongs are dearly paid; Yet with thy foe must die, or live, The praise that faith and valor give.' With that he blew a bugle note, Undid the collar from his throat, Unbonneted, and by the wave Sat down his brow and hands to rave. Then faint afar are…