'Midst the dead silence of pale multitudes, Sweet brother, God is with us-fear thou not! Should not behold us tremble. ABDULLAH. There are means To tame the loftiest natures. Yet again, I ask thee, wilt thou, from beneath the walls, ALPHONSO. Moslem! on the hills, Around my fathers's castle, I have heard The mountain-peasants, as they dress'd the vines, Or drove the goats, by rock and torrent, home, Singing their ancient songs; and these were all Of the Cid Campeador; and how his sword Tizona3 clear'd its way through turban'd hosts, And captured Afric's kings, and how he won Valencia from the Moor.-I will not shame The blood we draw from him! [The Soldier goes out, and re-enters with ELMINA, CARLOS (springing forward to the Attendant). ABDULLAH. Peace, boy!-What tidings, Christian, from thy lord? Of these fair nurslings at a city's worth? ALPHONSO (rushing forward impatiently). Say not, he doth !-Yet wherefore art thou here? For If it be so I could weep burning tears He is a champion of the cross and Spain, Sprung from the Cid;-and I too, I can die ELMINA. Alas! Alas! And wouldst thou die, thus early die, fair boy? What hath life done to thee, that thou shouldst cast Its flower away, in very scorn of heart, Ere yet the blight be come? ALPHONSO. That voice doth sound ABDULLAH. Stranger, who art thou?-this is mockery! speak! ELMINA (throwing off a mantle and helmet, and embracing her sons). My boys! whom I have rear'd through many hours Of silent joys and sorrows, and deep thoughts With you, now I have held you to my heart, And seen once more the faces, in whose light CARLOS. Thou shalt not leave us more. Sweet mother! now ABDULLAH. Enough of this! Woman! what seek'st thou here?-How hast thou dared To front the mighty thus amidst his hosts? ELMINA. Think'st thou there dwells no courage but in breasts Of that one feeling, pour'd through all its depths, ABDULLAH. Doth thy faith Bid thee do this, fond Christian?-Hast thou not The means to save them? ELMINA. I have prayers, and tears, And agonies!-and he-my God-the God Been laid upon thy heart, and thou may'st love [She throws herself at his feet. Conqueror! I can kneel! I, that drew birth from princes, bow myself E'en to thy feet! Call in thy chiefs, thy slaves, If this will swell thy triumph, to behold The blood of kings, of heroes, thus abased! Do this, but spare my sons! ALPHONSO (attempting to raise her). Thou shouldst not kneel |