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More like what thou hast been —My soul is hush'd,
For a still sense of purer worlds hath sunk
And settled on its depths with that last smile
Which from thine shone forth.-Thou hast not lived
In vain—my child, farewell !


Surely for thee

Death had no sting, Ximena —We are blest,
To learn one secret of the shadowy pass,
From such an aspect's calmness. Yet once more
I kiss thy pale young cheek, my broken flower
In token of th’ undying love and hope,
Whose land is far away. [Ereunt.

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Scene—The Walls of the City. HERNANDEz.—A few Citizens gathered round him.

HERNANDEZ. Why, men have cast the treasures, which their lives Had been worn down in gathering, on the pyre, Aye, at their household hearths have lit the brand, Even from that shrine of quiet love to bear The flame which gave their temples and their homes, In ashes, to the winds !—They have done this, Making a blasted void where once the sun Look’d upon lovely dwellings; and from earth Razing all record that on such a spot Childhood hath sprung, age faded, misery wept, And frail Humanity knelt before her God; —They have done this, in their free nobleness, Rather than see the spoiler's tread pollute Their holy places !—Praise, high praise be theirs, Who have left man such lessons !—And these things, Made your own hills their witnesses —The sky,

Whose arch bends o'er you, and the seas, wherein

Your rivers pour their gold, rejoicing saw
The altar, and the birth-place, and the tomb,
And all memorials of man's heart and faith,
Thus proudly honour’d —Be ye not outdone
By the departed —Though the godless foe
Be close upon us, we have power to snatch
The spoils of victory from him. Be but strong !
A few bright torches and brief moments yet
Shall baffle his flush’d hope, and we may die,
Laughing him unto scorn.—Rise, follow me,
And thou, Valencial triumph in thy fate,
The ruin, not the yoke, and make thy towers
A beacon unto Spain
We’ll follow thee!
—Alas! for our fair city, and the homes
Wherein we rear'd our children —But away !
The Moor shall plant no crescent o'er our sanes!
voice (from a Tower on the Walls).
Succours —Castile ! Castile !
citizens (rushing to the spot).
It is even so |

Now blessing be to Heaven, for we are saved'

Castile, Castile !

voice (from the Tower).

Line after line of spears, Lance after lance, upon the horizon's verge, Like festal lights from cities bursting up, Doth skirt the plain –In faith, a noble host


The Moor hath turn’d him from our walls, to front
Th' advancing might of Spain

citizens (shouting).

Castile! Castile !

(GoNzAlez enters, supported by ELMINA and a Citizen).

What shouts of joy are these ?
Hail, chieftain hail :

Thus ev’n in death 'tis given thee to receive
The conqueror's crown —Behold our God hath heard,
And arm'd himself with vengeance —Lo! they come !
The lances of Castile !


I knew, I knew Thou wouldst not utterly, my God, forsake

Thy servant in his need —My blood and tears
Have not sunk vainly to th’ attesting earth !
Praise to thee, thanks and praise, that I have lived
To see this hour !
And I too bless thy name,

Though thou hast proved me unto agony!
Oh God!—Thou God of chastening !

voice (from the Tower).

They move on 1
I see the royal banner in the air,
With its emblazon'd towers'
Go, bring ye forth
The banner of the Cid, and plant it here,
To stream above me, for an answering sign
That the good cross doth hold its lofty place
Within Valencia still!—What see ye now *

I see a kingdom's might upon its path,
Moving, in terrible magnificence,
Unto revenge and victory !—With the flash
Of knightly swords, up-springing from the ranks,

As meteors from a still and gloomy deep,

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