I have a vague remembrance
⁠Of a story that is told
In some ancient Spanish legend
⁠Or chronicle of old.

It was when brave King Sanchez
⁠Was before Zamora slain,
And his great besieging army
⁠Lay encamped upon the plain.

Don Diego de Ordenez
⁠Sallied forth in front of all,
And shouted loud his challenge
⁠To the warders on the wall.

All the people of Zamora,
⁠Both the born and the unborn,
As traitors did he challenge
⁠With taunting words of scorn.

The living in their houses,
⁠And in their graves the dead,
And the waters in their rivers,
⁠And their wine, and oil, and bread.

There is a greater army
⁠That besets us round with strife,
A starving, numberless army
⁠At all the gates of life.