Will hang on every step from rich and poor,
Grey quickly-glancing eyes will wrinkle round,
And courtesy will watch them day and night.
Shameless they are, yet will they blush, amid
A nation that ne'er blushes: some will drag
The captive's chain, repair the shattered bark,
Or heave it from a quicksand to the shore,
Among the marbles of the Libyan coast;
Teach patience to the lion in his cage,
And, by the order of a higher slave,
Hold to the elephant their scanty fare,
To please the children while the parent sleeps.

COV. Spaniards? must they, dear father, lead such lives?

JUL. All are not Spaniards who draw breath in Spain;
Those are, who live for her, who die for her,
Who love her glory and lament her fall.
Oh, may I too -

COV. But peacefully, and late,
Live and die here!

JUL. I have, alas! myself
Laid waste the hopes where my fond fancy strayed,
And view their ruins with unaltered eyes.

COV. My mother will at last return to thee.
Might I once more, but--could I now behold her,
Tell her--ah me! what was my rash desire?