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Praise, praise to heaven! Sing of the conquer'd field, the Paynim flying,— Light up the shrines, and bid the banners wave! Sing of the warrior for the red-cross dying— Chant a proud requiem o'er his holy grave! Praise, praise to heaven! Praise!—lift the song through night's resounding sky! Peace to the valiant for the Cross that die! Sleep soft, ye brave!

 

Her. (to one of the Knights.) You would plead for him?

Knight. Nay, remember all His past renown!

Her. I had a friend in youth— This Aymer's father had him shamed for less Than his son's fault—far less! We must accuse him;—he must have his shield Reversed—his name degraded.

Knight. He might yet—

All the Knights. Must his shame cleave to us? We cast him forth— We will not bear it.

Rai. Knights! ye speak of him— My brother—was't not so? All silent! Nay, Give your thoughts breath! What said ye?

Her. That his name Must be degraded.

Rai. Silence! ye disturb The dead. Thou hear'st, my father! [Going up indignantly to the Knights. Which of ye Shall first accuse him? He, whose bold step won The breach at Ascalon ere Aymer's step, Let him speak first! He that plunged deeper through the stormy fight, Thence to redeem the banner of the Cross, On Cairo's plain, let him speak first! Or he Whose sword burst swifter o'er the Saracen, I' the rescue of our king, by Jordan's waves— I say, let him speak first!

Her. Is he not an apostate?

Rai. No, no, no! If he were that, had my life's blood that taint, This hand should pour it out! He is not that. 