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A TRAGEDY.
403


JUSTINIANI.

Thou'rt thoughtful.


RODRIGO.

No, I think as others do

With such day's work before them, in good truth,
Not passing merrily.

JUSTINIANI.

From the high tower I've seen th' approaching foe:

It seems a dark and strangely-mixed mass
Of life, wide moving in the misty light
Of early dawn.—I've fought in many a field,
As valiant men and armed warrior's fight,
But such a strange assemblage of new modes
Of mingled war as we this day must face,
I never yet encounter'd.

RODRIGO.

Well, we shall know the scent and flavour of it

When we have tasted it.

JUSTINIANI.

We shall be smother'd up with the mean press

Of worthless matter, as a noble steed,
Beneath the falling rafters of his shed
Ignobly perishes.

RODRIGO.

Fear not, proud soul; we shall have men to fight,