Part 28 (1/2)

Asef. Oh! What shall we do?

Raf. We are an army. We'll do as armies do. Take food where we can find it.

Asef. O, Rafael!

Raf. Yes, love, we'll play the robber to fill the mouth of Liberty,--she's fed too long on thistles.

Asef. She's a stern mistress, Rafael.

Raf. But sweeter, love, Her harshest frown that summer smiles of kings!

O, I reproach her not, even when I see My dearest friends lie dying in her name!

A bed of stones is soft enough for me If she but rock to sleep,--a crust to-day, To-morrow none, and at her board I'm fed.

But when I look on you, my traitor blood Flies from her service. Oh, to see these hands That plucked no beauty ruder than the rose, So meanly laboring in the basest needs!

Your gentle body resting on cold earth, Glad of a blanket 'tween you and the sod, While in your bed the foreign robber sleeps!

This shakes my loyalty till I could hate The fair, unspotted cause my sword is drawn in!

Asef. Stop, Rafael! O thank G.o.d these hands have known That blessed of all fortunes,--to toil for love!

These eyes that sought for but a face more fair, A flower more sweet, have found the stars that rise Where Truth and Courage wander in the night!

In southern vales maybe we'll hear again The morning birds sing at our bowered windows, But we will not forget the n.o.bler song Now borne by winds about these mountain peaks,-- The song of man made free!

Raf. We'll not forget.

But will that sweet day come? Tell me, Aseffa, You who are half a sibyl,--shall we go down That valley to our home?

Asef. 'Tis not to gain Our father's halls, and sit 'neath fig and vine, We hide and starve and stagger in these hills, But to keep n.o.ble the last hour of life, That Death who gathers it may read thereon The seal immortal of approving G.o.d.

Raf. Yes--dear Aseffa--but--(Faints)

Asef. Rafael! Rafael!

Ah dying! O my prating virtue's gone!

I care for naught but that my love shall live!

O, Liberty, wilt spare me this one life?

... Ho! Miguel! Up!

Mig. Hey! What! Senora!... Ah!

Lerdo. What's here?

Asef. There's wine in the general's tent! Rafael!

My love, my love, look up!... O Mexico, With all thy veins of gold thou art not worth One dear drop of his blood!

(Enter General Trevino)

Trev. What's this new grief?

Not Rafael!... He faints. 'Tis hunger ... hunger.

Miguel! Lerdo! Bear him to my tent.

Give him what food you find there. First the wine!