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.