Page:The Siege of Valencia.pdf/163

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Unto this infidel!—Rise, rise, my mother! This sight doth shame our house!

Thou daring boy! They that in arms have taught thy father's land How chains are worn, shall school that haughty mien Unto another language.

Peace, my son! Have pity on my heart!—Oh, pardon, Chief! He is of noble blood!—Hear, hear me yet! Are there no lives through which the shafts of Heaven May reach your soul?—He that loves aught on earth, Dares far too much, if he be merciless! Is it for those, whose frail mortality Must one day strive alone with God and death, To shut their souls against th' appealing voice Of nature, in her anguish?—Warrior! Man! To you too, aye, and haply with your hosts, By thousands and ten thousands marshall'd round, And your strong armour on, shall come that stroke Which the lance wards not!—Where shall your high heart Find refuge then, if in the day of might Woe hath lain prostrate, bleeding at your feet, And you have pitied not?