Page:Miscellaneous Plays 1.pdf/425

Rh

Of warlike engines, rais'd aloft in air, Gleams the first light of this high-fated day; And wide expanded, thro' the farther mists Moves the dark Turkish host. Thou'rt a tried soul, Rodrigo, I but new To such tremendous, strange expectancy: Now is the hour when the soul knows itself. (Rising on tiptoe with a conscious smile.)

Ay, Othus, thou dost wear the countenance Of a true man: give me thine honest hand. Are all our friends assembled? (Trumpet sounds.)

This says they are: and here comes, last of all, Our northern friends.

Now we are all assembled. Constantine, He also comes; and sadly by his side, In mournful dignity, moves his high dame, Proudly contending with her woman's heart.

Good morrow, noble brothers and brave leaders: Are we all here conven'd?