These are dark times! I have not been alone In my affliction. THIRD CITIZEN (with bitterness). Why, we have but this thought Left for our gloomy comfort!-And 'tis well! No scornful guests, with their long purple robes, FOURTH CITIZEN. Heard you last night the sound Of Saint Jago's bell?-How sullenly From the great tower it peal'd! FIFTH CITIZEN. Aye, and 'tis said No mortal hand was near when so it seem'd To shake the midnight streets. OLD CITIZEN. Too well I know The sound of coming fate!-'Tis ever thus FOURTH CITIZEN. And will our chief Buy with the price of his fair children's blood For this forsaken city? OLD CITIZEN. Doubt it not! -But with that ransom he may purchase still To think that such a race, with all its fame, Should pass away!-For she, his daughter too, FIFTH CITIZEN. Then woe for us When she is gone!-Her voice-the very sound OLD CITIZEN. Be still!-she comes, And with a mien how changed!-A hurrying step, XIMENA enters, with Attendants carrying a Banner. XIMENA. Men of Valencia! in an hour like this, What do ye here? A CITIZEN. We die! ΧΙΜΕΝΑ. Brave men die now Girt for the toil, as travellers suddenly By the dark night o'ertaken on their way! These days require such death!-It is too much Of luxury for our wild and angry times, To fold the mantle round us, and to sink From life, as flowers that shut up silently, When the sun's heat doth scorch them!-Hear ye not? A CITIZEN. Lady! what wouldst thou with us ? XIMENA. Rise and arm! E'en now the children of your chief are led I' th' land to which for ages it hath been A battle word, as 'twere some passing note The pulse which God hath made for noble thought CITIZEN. "Tis even so ! Sickness, and toil, and grief, have breath'd upon us, Our hearts beat faint and low. XIMENA. Are ye so poor Of soul, my countrymen! that ye can draw Strength from no deeper source than that which sends The red blood mantling through the joyous veins, And gives the fleet step wings?-Why, how have age Through pangs of searching fire, in some proud cause, The torturer where eternal Heaven had set Bounds to his sway, was earthy, of this earth, Of th' incense, floating through yon fane, shall scarce I have that within me, kindling through the dust, |