If not to shame your doubt, and your despair,
And your soul's torpor?—Yet, arise and arm!
It may not be too late.
A CITIZEN.
To cope with hosts?—Thus faint, and worn, and few,
O'ernumber'd and forsaken, is 't for us
To stand against the mighty?
XIMENA.
Hath He, who shakes the mighty with a breath
From their high places, made the fearfulness,
And ever-wakeful presence of his power,
To the pale startled earth most manifest,
But for the weak?—Was 't for the helm'd and crown'd
That suns were stay'd at noonday?—Stormy seas
As a rill parted?—Mail'd archangels sent
To wither up the strength of kings with death?
—I tell you, if these marvels have been done,
'Twas for the wearied and th' oppress'd of men,
They needed such!—And generous faith hath power
By her prevailing spirit, e'en yet to work
Deliverances, whose tale shall live with those
Of the great elder time!—Be of good heart!
