Sfo. Torello, didst thou mark the ardent soul
Which fires each soldier’s eye?
Tor. I mark’d it well.
I heard th’ impatient shout, th’ exulting voice
Of Hope and Courage; and I turn’d aside,
That on my brow the warrior might not read
Th’ involuntary thought whose sudden gloom
Had cast deep shadows there. It was a thought,
That this vain semblance of delusive joy
Soon like a dream shall fade. It was a thought