Page:The Siege of Valencia.pdf/145

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Not so! —Death! Death!—Why, earth should be a paradise, To make that name so fearful!—Had he died, With his young fame about him for a shroud, I had not learn'd the might of agony, To bring proud natures low!—No! he fell off— —Why do I tell thee this?—What right hast thou To learn how pass'd the glory from my house? Yet listen!—He forsook me!—He, that was As mine own soul, forsook me! trampled o'er The ashes of his sires!—Aye, leagued himself E'en with the infidel, the curse of Spain, And, for the dark eye of a Moorish maid, Abjured his faith, his God!—Now, talk of death!

Oh! I can pity thee——

There's more to hear. I braced the corslet o'er my heart's deep wound, And cast my troubled spirit on the tide Of war and high events, whose stormy waves Might bear it up from sinking;——