A moment from my sight! Whence rose that shout,
As in fierce triumph?
Her. (clasping his hands.) Must I look on this?
The banner sinks—’tis taken!
Gon. Whose?
Her. Castile’s!
Gon. O God of Battles!
Elm. Calm thy noble heart;
Thou wilt not pass away without thy meed.
Nay, rest thee on my bosom.