GARCIAS.
A sword, springs upward, like a lightning burst,
Through the dark serried mass!—Its cold blue glare
Is wavering to and fro—'tis vanish'd—hark!
GONZALEZ.
That heavily broke the silence!—Didst thou speak?
—I lost thy words—come nearer!
GARCIAS.
The sword fell then!
HERNANDEZ (with exultation).
Fount of Spain's ransom and deliverance, flow
Uncheck'd and brightly forth!—Thou kingly stream!
Blood of our heroes! blood of martyrdom!
Which through so many warrior-hearts hast pour'd
Thy fiery currents, and hast made our hills
Free, by thine own free offering!—Bathe the land,
But there thou shalt not sink!—Our very air
Shall take thy colouring, and our loaded skies
O'er th' infidel hang dark and ominous,
With battle-hues of thee!—And thy deep voice
