Mingle in sweet communion with its children,
Trust in its providence, its retribution,
And I will cease to mourn; for, O my child,
These tears corrode, but thine assuage the heart.

COV. And never shall I see my mother too,
My own, my blessed mother!

JUL. Thou shalt see
Her and thy brothers.

COV. No! I cannot look
On them, I cannot meet their lovely eyes,
I cannot lift mine up from under theirs.
We all were children when they went away;
They now have fought hard battles, and are men,
And camps and kings they know, and woes and crimes.
Sir, will they never venture from the walls
Into the plain? Remember, they are young,
Hardy and emulous and hazardous;
And who is left to guard them in the town?

JUL. Peace is throughout the land: the various tribes
Of that vast region sink at once to rest,
Like one wide wood when every wind lies hushed.

COV. And war, in all its fury, roams o'er Spain.

JUL. Alas! and will for ages: crimes are loose
At which ensanguined War stands shuddering;