'Besides,' replied the gentleman, 'I have by heart the sonnets my brother made.'
'Then, pray, sir, repeat them,' said the captive; 'for you will be able to do it better than I can.'
'With all my heart,' answered the gentleman: 'that upon Goleta was thus:
In which is continued the history of the captive.
'O happy souls, by death at length set free
From the dark prison of mortality,
By glorious deeds, whose memory never dies,
From earth's dim spot exalted to the skies!
What fury stood in every eye confess'd!
What generous ardour fired each manly breast!
Whilst slaughter'd heaps disdain'd the sandy shore,
And the tinged ocean blush'd with hostile gore.
O'erpower'd by numbers, gloriously ye fell:
Death only could such matchless courage quell.
Whilst dying thus ye triumph o'er your foes,
Its fame the world, its glory heaven bestows!
'You have it right,' said the captive.
'That on the fort,' said the gentleman, 'if I do not forget, was as follows:
'From 'midst these walls, whose ruins spread around,
And scatter'd clods that heap th'ensanguin'd ground,
Three thousand souls of warriors, dead in fight,
To better regions took their happy flight.
Long with unconquer'd force they bravely stood,
And fearless shed their unavailing blood;
Till, to superior force compell'd to yield,
Their lives they quitted in the well-fought field.