Page:The Siege of Valencia.pdf/111

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O'erawed, shrank back before them?—Aye, the earth Doth call them martyrs, but their agonies Were of a moment, tortures whose brief aim Was to destroy, within whose powers and scope Lay nought but dust.—And earth doth call them martyrs! Why, Heaven but claim'd their blood, their lives, and not The things which grow as tendrils round their hearts; No, not their children!

Mean'st thou?—know'st thou aught?— I cannot utter it—My sons! my sons! Is it of them?—Oh! wouldst thou speak of them?

A mother's heart divineth but too well!

Speak, I adjure thee!—I can bear it all.— Where are my children?

In the Moorish camp Whose lines have girt the city.

But they live? —All is not lost, my mother!

Say, they live.