Page:The Siege of Valencia.pdf/109

When Heaven lets loose the storms that chasten realms
—Who speaks of rest?

XIMENA.

My father, shall I fill

The wine-cup for thy lips, or bring the lute
Whose sounds thou lovest?

GONZALEZ.

If there be strains of power

To rouse a spirit, which in triumphant scorn
May cast off nature's feebleness, and hold
Its proud career unshackled, dashing down
Tears and fond thoughts to earth; give voice to those!
I have need of such, Ximena! we must hear
No melting music now.

XIMENA.

I know all high

Heroic ditties of the elder time,
Sung by the mountain-Christians^1[1] in the holds
Of th' everlasting hills, whose snows yet bear
The print of Freedom's step; and all wild strains
Wherein the dark serranos*^[2] teach the rocks
And the pine forests deeply to resound

2. * "Serranos," mountaineers.