A restless and disturbing consciousness
That the bright things must fade!—How have I shrunk
From the dull murmur of th' unquiet voice,
With its low tokens of mortality,
Till my heart fainted midst their smiles!—their smiles!
—Where are those glad looks now?—Could they go down,
With all their joyous light, that seem'd not earth's,
To the cold grave?—My children!—Righteous Heaven!
There floats a dark remembrance o'er my brain
Of one who told me, with relentless eye,
That this should be the hour!
Ximena enters.
XIMENA.
Unto the rescue!—strong in heart and hope,
Faithful, though few!—My mother, let thy prayers
Call on the land's good saints to lift once more
The sword and cross that sweep the field for Spain,
As in old battle; so thine arms e'en yet
May clasp thy sons!—For me, my part is done!
The flame, which dimly might have linger'd yet
A little while, hath gather'd all its rays
Brightly to sink at once; and it is well!
