But what of that! I loved you, O my realm!
And must I see you thus destroyed and ravaged!
Ah! Ah! Ah! Tremble, you lofty chimneys that tower to the stars and midst the marguerites and glow-worms are mirrored in the brimming moat.
Uproot yourself,
Ancestral beech whose branches shade the courtyard!
Down to the dust with you, genealogy!
And let the walls be rent asunder from base to battlement!
—Hola! You there! Wake up!
(He jostles against a sleeper, who grunts.
What are you muttering down there?