O Pioneers!

The First Spokesman

Has the night descended?
Was the road of late so toilsome? Did we stop discouraged, nodding on our way?
Yet a passing hour I yield you in your tracks to pause oblivious,
Pioneers!

The Choir

O Pioneers!

Freedom

Till with sound of trumpet,
Far, far off the daybreak call—hark! how loud I hear it wind,
Swift! to the head of the army!—swift! spring to your places,
Pioneers!

The Choir

O Pioneers!

[At the final shout of the Choir, the western light turns suddenly bloody and the procession hurries off into murk and portent. At the same time a new light breaks over the forestage upon a sinister line of men which has come in between the thrones of the two Spokesmen.