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-And the bright locks that waved so joyously
To the free winds, lay trampled and defiled
Ev'n on that place of death!-Oh, Merciful!
Hush the dark thought within me!

HERNANDEZ (with sudden exultation).
Who is he,

On the white steed, and with the castled helm,
And the gold-broider'd mantle, which doth float
E'en like a sunny cloud above the fight;

And the pale cross, which from his breast-plate gleams
With star-like radiance?

[blocks in formation]

On his mail'd bosom shines a broad white cross,

And his long plumage through the darkening air
Streams like a snow-wreath.

GONZALEZ.

That should be

HERNANDEZ.

The king!

Was it not told us how he sent, of late,

To the Cid's tomb, e'en for the silver cross,

Which he who slumbers there was wont to bind
O'er his brave heart in fight."

GONZALEZ (springing up joyfully).

My king! my king!

Now all good saints for Spain !-My noble king!
And thou art there!-That I might look once more
Upon thy face!-But yet I thank thee, Heaven!
That thou hast sent him, from my dying hands
Thus to receive his city!

[He sinks back into ELMINA's arms.

HERNANDEZ.

He hath clear'd

A pathway 'midst the combat, and the light
Follows his charge through yon close living mass,
E'en as the gleam on some proud vessel's wake
Along the stormy waters!-'Tis redeem'd―
The castled banner!-It is flung once more

In joy and glory, to the sweeping winds!

-There seems a wavering through the paynim hosts— Castile doth press them sore-Now, now rejoice!

What hast thou seen?

GONZALEZ.

HERNANDEZ.

Abdullah falls! He falls!

The man of blood!-the spoiler !-he hath sunk
In our king's path!-Well hath that royal sword

Avenged thy cause, Gonzalez!

They give way,

The Crescent's van is broken!-On the hills

And the dark pine-woods may the infidel
Call vainly, in his agony of fear,

To cover him from vengeance!-Lo! they fly!
They of the forest and the wilderness

Are scatter'd, e'en as leaves upon the wind!

Woe to the sons of Afric!-Let the plains,
And the vine-mountains, and Hesperian seas,

Take their dead unto them!-that blood shall wash

Our soil from stains of bondage.

GONZALEZ (attempting to raise himself).

Set me free!

Come with me forth, for I must greet my king,

After his battle-field!

HERNANDEZ.

Oh, blest in death!

Chosen of Heaven, farewell!-Look on the Cross,

And part from earth in peace!

GONZALEZ.

Now charge once more!

God is with Spain, and Santiago's sword

Is reddening all the air!-Shout forth Castile!'

The day is ours!-I go; but fear ye not!
For Afric's lance is broken, and my sons

Have won their first good field!

[He dies.

ELMINA.

Look on me yet!

Speak one farewell, my husband!-must thy voice

Enter

my soul no more !—Thine eye is fix'd—

Now is my life uprooted,-and 'tis well.

(A Sound of triumphant Music is heard, and many Castilian Knights and Soldiers enter.)

A CITIZEN.

Hush your triumphal sounds, although ye come

E'en as deliverers!-But the noble dead,

And those that mourn them, claim from human hearts

Deep silent reverence.

ELMINA (rising proudly).

No, swell forth, Castile!

Thy trumpet-music, till the seas and heavens,
And the deep hills, give every stormy note
Echoes to ring through Spain!-How, know ye not
That all array'd for triumph, crown'd and robed
With the strong spirit which hath saved the land,
Ev'n now a conqueror to his rest is gone e?
-Fear not to break that sleep, but let the wind

Swell on with victory's shout!-He will not hear

Hath earth a sound more sad?

HERNANDEZ.

Lift ye the dead,

And bear him with the banner of his race

Waving above him proudly, as it waved

O'er the Cid's battles, to the tomb, wherein
His warrior-sires are gather'd.

[They raise the body.

ELMINA.

Aye, 'tis thus

Thou shouldst be honour'd!—And I follow thee

With an unfaltering and a lofty step,

To that last home of glory. She that wears

In her deep heart the memory of thy love

Shall thence draw strength for all things, till the God,
Whose hand around her hath unpeopled earth,

Looking upon her still and chasten'd soul,

Call it once more to thine!

(To the Castilians.)

Awake, I say,

Tambour and trumpet, wake!-And let the land

Through all her mountains hear your funeral peal!
-So should a hero pass to his repose.

[Exeunt omnes.

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