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Aym. I will not hear—speak'st thou of chivalry?

Rai. Yes! I have been upon thy native hills. There's a gray cliff juts proudly from their woods, Crown'd with baronial towers—rememberest thou? And there's a chapel by the moaning sea— Thou know'st it well—tall pines wave over it, Darkening the heavy banners, and the tombs. Is not the cross upon thy fathers' tombs!— Christian! what dost thou here?

Aym. (starting up indignantly.) Man! who art thou? Thy voice disturbs my soul. Speak! I will know Thy right to question me.

Rai. (throwing off his disguise, stands before him My birth-right!—look!

Aym. Brother! (Retreating from him with horror.) —Her blood is on your hands!—keep back!

Rai. (scornfully.) Nay, keep the Paynim's garb from touching mine. Answer me thence!—what dost thou here?

Aym. You shrink From your own work!—you, that have made me thus! Wherefore are you here? Are you not afraid To stand beneath the awful midnight sky, And you a murderer? Leave me.

Rai. I lift up No murderer's brow to heaven!

Aym. You dare speak thus!— Do not the bright stars, with their searching rays, Strike through your guilty soul? Oh, no!—tis well, Passing well! Murder! Make the earth's harvests grow With Paynim blood!—Heaven wills it! The free air, The sunshine—I forgot—they were not made For infidels. Blot out the race from day! Who talks of murder? Murder! when you die Claim your soul's place of happiness i' the name Of that good deed! (In a tone of deep feeling.) If you had loved a flower I would not have destroy'd it!

Rai. (with emotion.) Brother!

Aym. (impetuously.) No!— No brother now. She knelt to you in vain; And that hath set a gulf—a boundless gulf— Between our souls. Your very face is changed— There's a red cloud shadowing it: your forehead wears The marks of blood—her blood! (In a triumphant tone) But you prevail not! You have made the dead The mighty—the victorious! Yes! you thought To dash her image into fragments down,