Tar. Danger is past, he conquers;
No enemy is left him to subdue.
Her. He sank not, while there was, into himself.
Now plainly see I from his altered tone,
He cannot live much longer—thanks to God!
Tar. What! wishest thou thy once kind master dead?
Was he not kind to thee, ungrateful slave!
Her. The gentlest, as the bravest, of mankind.
Therefore shall memory dwell more tranquilly
With Julian, once at rest, than friendship could,
Knowing him yearn for death with speechless love.
For his own sake I could endure his loss,
Pray for it, and thank God; yet mourn I must
Him above all! so great, so bountiful,
So blessed once! bitterly must I mourn.
’Tis not my solace that ’tis his desire;
Of all that pass us in life’s drear descent
We grieve the most for those that wished to die.
A father to us all, he merited,
Unhappy man! all a good father’s joy
In his own house, where seldom he hath been,
But, ever mindful of its dear delights,
He formed one family around him, ever.
Tar. Yes, we have seen and known him—let his fame
Refresh his friends, but let it stream afar,
Nor in the twilight of home scenes be lost.
He chose the best, and cherished them; he left
To self-reproof the mutinies of vice;
Avarice, that dwarfs ambition’s tone and mien;
Envy, sick nursling of the court; and pride
That cannot bear his semblance nor himself;
And malice, with blear visage half-descried
Amid the shadows of her hiding-place.
Her. What could I not endure, O gallant man,
To hear him spoken of as thou hast spoken!
Oh! I would almost be a slave to him
Who calls me one.
Muza. What? art thou not? begone.
Tar. Reply not, brave Hernando, but retire.
All can revile, few only can reward.
Behold the meed our mighty chief bestows!
Accept it, for thy services, and mine.
More, my bold Spaniard, hath obedience won
Than anger, even in the ranks of war.
Her. The soldier, not the Spaniard, shall obey.
[Goes.