On their majestic line!—My sons! my sons!
—Now is all else forgotten!—I had once
A babe that in the early spring-time lay
Sickening upon my bosom, till at last,
When earth's young flowers were opening to the sun,
Death sunk on his meek eyelid, and I deem'd
All sorrow light to mine!— But now the fate
Of all my children seems to brood above me
In the dark thunder-clouds!—Oh! I have power
And voice unfaltering now to speak my prayer
And my last lingering hope, that thou shouldst win
The father to relent, to save his sons!
HERNANDEZ.
ELMINA.
By meeting that which gathers close upon us
Perchance one day the sooner!—Is 't not so?
Must we not yield at last?—How long shall man
Array his single breast against disease,
And famine, and the sword?
HERNANDEZ.
Who shadows forth his power more gloriously
