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And those who on his victories bestow'd A cold and niggard praise, now, with full hearts, Gave boundless tribute to his lofty virtue.

It makes me weep that they did weep for him. Heaven's will be done! I've been too stern and violent in my grief: God grant me more submission to his will, And I will learn to bear it.—My Henriquez! The brave with tears of admiration grace Thy hapless end, and rescue thee from shame.

Rescue! far more than rescue: his proud house The very implements of execution Will henceforth in their banners proudly weave.

I needs must weep; but let my tears have vent, And I shall be resign'd.

How is Henriquez? came ye from his tower?

Most admirably well; his soul is up: I left him shaking hands most cordially