Is not the strong man wither’d from our eye?
The arm struck down that held our banners high?—
Thine is our spirits’ trust!
Look through the gathering shadows of the grave!
Do we not perish?—Father, hear and save!
Hernandez enters.
Elm. Why com’st thou, man of vengeance?—
What have I
To do with thee? Am I not bow’d enough?
Thou art no mourner’s comforter!