To battle-horn and tecbir.[276] But not all
So pass away in glory. There are those,
Midst the dead silence of pale multitudes,
Led forth in fetters—dost thou mark me, boy?—
To take their last look of th’ all-gladdening sun,
And bow, perchance, the stately head of youth
Unto the death of shame!—Hadst thou seen this——
Alph. (to Carlos.) Sweet brother, God is with us—fear thou not!
We have had heroes for our sires:—this man
Should not behold us tremble.