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 —Aymer, you do not speak!

Aym. (starting.) Have I not said? Battle!—yes, give us battle!—room to pour The troubled spirit forth upon the winds, With the trumpet’s ringing blast! Way for remorse! Free way for vengeance!

All the Knights. Arm! Heaven wills it so!

Rai. Gather your forces to the western gate! Let none forget that day! Our field was lost, Our city's strength laid low—one mighty heart Broken! Let none forget it! [Exeunt.

Mor. Yes! his last look—my brother's dying look Reproach'd me as it faded from his face. And I deserved it! Had I not given way To the wild guilty pleadings of my heart, I might have won his freedom! Now, 'tis past. He is free now!

Aymer! you look so changed!

Aym. Changed!—it may be. A storm o' the soul goes by Not like a breeze! There's such a fearful grasp Fix'd on my heart! Speak to me—lull remorse! Bid me farewell!

Mor. Yes! it must be farewell! No other word but that.

Aym. No other word! The passionate, burning words that I could pour From my heart's depths! 'Tis madness! What have I To do with love? I see it all—the mist Is gone—the bright mist gone! I see the woe, The ruin, the despair! And yet I love, Love wildly, fatally! But speak to me! Fill all my soul once more with reckless joy! That blessèd voice again!

Mor. Why, why is this? Oh! send me to my father! We must part.

Aym. Part!—yes, I know it all! I could not go Till I had seen you! Give me one farewell, The last—perchance the last!—but one farewell, Whose mournful music I may take with me Through tumult, horror, death! [A distant sound of trumpets.

Mor. (starting.) You go to battle!

Aym. Hear you not that sound? Yes! I go there, where dark and stormy thoughts Find their free path!