Page:The Siege of Valencia.pdf/183

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This to me! —Bring your inspiring war-notes, and your sounds Of festal music round a dying man! Will his heart echo them?—But if thy words Were spells, to call up, with each lofty tone, The grave's most awful spirits, they would stand Powerless, before my anguish!

Then, by her, Who there looks on thee in the purity Of her devoted youth, and o'er whose name No blight must fall, and whose pale cheek must ne'er Burn with that deeper tinge, caught painfully From the quick feeling of dishonour.—Speak! Unfold this mystery!—By thy sons——

My sons! And canst thou name them?

Proudly!—Better far They died with all the promise of their youth, And the fair honour of their house upon them, Than that with manhood's high and passionate soul