ove, we'll play the robber to fill the mouth of
Liberty,--she's fed too long on thistles.

Asef. She's a stern mistress, Rafael.

Raf. But sweeter, love,
Her harshest frown that summer smiles of kings!
O, I reproach her not, even when I see
My dearest friends lie dying in her name!
A bed of stones is soft enough for me
If she but rock to sleep,--a crust to-day,
To-morrow none, and at her board I'm fed.
But when I look on you, my traitor blood
Flies from her service. Oh, to see these hands
That plucked no beauty ruder than the rose,
So meanly laboring in the basest needs!
Your gentle body resting on cold earth,
Glad of a blanket 'tween you and the sod,
While in your bed the foreign robber sleeps!
This shakes my loyalty till I could hate
The fair, unspotted cause my sword is drawn in!

Asef. Stop, Rafael! O thank God these hands have known
That blessed of all fortunes,--to toil for love!
These eyes that sought for but a face more fair,
A flower more sweet, have found the stars that rise
Where Truth and Courage wander in the night!
In southern vales maybe we'll hear again
The morning birds sing at our bowered windows,
But we will not forget the nobler song
Now borne by winds about these mountain peaks,--
The song of man made free!

Raf. We'll not forget.
But will that sweet day come? Tell me, Aseffa,
You who are half a sibyl,--shall we go down
That valley to our home?

Asef. 'Tis not to gain
Our father's halls, and sit 'neath fig and vine,
We hide and starve and stagger in these hills,
But to keep noble the last hour of life,
That Death who gathers it may read thereon
The seal immortal of approving God.

Raf. Yes--dear Aseffa--but--(Faints)

Asef. Rafael! Rafael!
Ah dying! O my prating virtue's gone!
I care for naught but that my love shall live!
O, Liberty, wilt spare me this one life?
... Ho! Miguel! Up!

Mig. Hey! What! Senora!... Ah!

Lerdo. What's here?

Asef.