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Rh

Bid every soldier dight him for the field: I've slept too long.

It is the very hour At which you did give orders to be waked.

Ha! Yes, I understand thee: it is morn,— The fated morn that brings to me no noon. Sleep from the tablet of my brain had razed All present things, and in my waking fancy Had led me back to what I was so lately. I thank you. Dawns the light?

The morning breaks.

Your voices sound like midnight, not like morn. Welcome, good Father; thou art come, in truth, To wake me for the fight, and brace my strength, Not with corporeal arms.

No, good my Lord; A nobler armour, for a nobler warfare: And the Almighty King, whose valiant soldier Thou wilt this day approve thyself to be, Will gird thee for the field. Receive from him His high commission, worthy of a man.