Sooner than e'en this anguish! Life is best

Thrown from us in such moments.

[Voices heard at a distance.

HERNANDEZ.

Hush! what strain

Floats on the wind?

GARCIAS.

"Tis the Cid's battle song!

What marvel hath been wrought?

[Voices approaching heard in chorus.

The Moor is on his way!

With the tambour peal and the tecbir shout,

And the horn o'er the blue seas ringing out,
He hath marshall'd his dark array!

XIMENA enters, followed by the CITIZENS, with the

Banner.

XIMENA.

Is it too late?-My father, these are men

Through life and death prepared to follow thee
Beneath this banner!-Is their zeal too late?

-Oh! there's a fearful history on thy brow!
What hast thou seen?

(To GARCIAS.) Hush! wouldst thou chill

That which hath sprung within them, as a flame
From th' altar-embers mounts in sudden brightness?

I

say,

'tis not too late, ye men of Spain !

On to the rescue!

XIMENA.

Bless me, oh my father!

And I will hence, to aid thee with my prayers,
Sending my spirit with thee through the storm,
Lit up by flashing swords!

GONZALEZ (falling upon her neck).

Hath aught been spared?

Am I not all bereft ?-Thou 'rt left me still!

Mine own, my loveliest one, thou 'rt left me still!
Farewell!thy father's blessing, and thy God's,
Be with thee, my Ximena!

XIMENA.

Fare thee well!

If, ere thy steps turn homeward from the field,
The voice is hush'd that still hath welcomed thee,

Think of me in thy victory!

Give me the banner! Swell the song again!

THE CITIZENS.

Ere night, must swords be red!

It is not an hour for knells and tears,

But for helmets braced and serried spears!

-To-morrow for the dead!

[Exeunt omnes.

Scene-Before the Altar of a Church.

ELMINA rises from the steps of the Altar.

ELMINA.

The clouds are fearful that o'erhang thy ways,
Oh, thou mysterious Heaven!-It cannot be

That I have drawn the vials of thy wrath,
To burst upon me through the lifting up
Of a proud heart, elate in happiness!
No! in my day's full noon, for me life's flowers
But wreath'd a cup of trembling; and the love,
The boundless love, my spirit was form'd to bear,
Hath ever, in its place of silence, been
A trouble and a shadow, tinging thought
With hues too deep for joy !—I never look'd
On my fair children, in their buoyant mirth,
Or sunny sleep, when all the gentle air
Seem'd glowing with their quiet blessedness,
But o'er my soul there came a shuddering sense
Of earth, and its pale changes; even like that
Which vaguely mingles with our glorious dreams,

A restless and disturbing consciousness

That the bright things must fade !-How have I shrunk From the dull murmur of th' unquiet voice,

With its low tokens of mortality,

Till my heart fainted 'midst their smiles!—their smiles!
-Where are those glad looks now ?-Could they go down,
With all their joyous light, that seem'd not earth's,
To the cold grave?—My children !-Righteous Heaven!
There floats a dark remembrance o'er my brain

Unto the rescue !—strong in heart and hope,
Faithful, though few!-My mother, let thy prayers
Call on the land's good saints to lift once more
The sword and cross that sweep the field for Spain,
As in old battle; so thine arms e'en yet

May clasp thy sons!-For me, my part is done!
The flame, which dimly might have linger'd yet

A little while, hath gather'd all its rays
Brightly to sink at once; and it is well!