How
joyously
they
spurred
them!
how
sadly
drew
the
rein.
There
gleamed
no
golden
palace,
there
blazed
no
jeweled
fane;
Rude
tents
of
hide
of
bison,
dog-guarded,
met
their
view
A
squalid
Indian
village,
the
lodges
of
the
Sioux!
Then
Don
Francisco
bowed
his
head.
He
spake
unto
his
men:
& quot;Our
search
is
vain,
true
hearts
of
Spain,
now
turn
we
home
again.
And
would
to
God
that
I
could
give
that
phantom
city
s
pride
In
ransom
for
the
gallant
souls
that
here
have
drooped
and
died! & quot;
Back,
back
to
Compostela
the
wayworn
hand
ful
bore;
But
sturdy
Fray
Padilla
took
up
the
quest
once
more.
[
128]
