The Chapel of the Alamo. Colonel Win. Travis and Chaplain Smith standing near the altar.
One, one more word! my last, my last to thee!
Thy post, dear friend, is at this holy altar.
Not in the battle's van. Thou, thou alone,
If spares the foe thy life, respects thy garb,
Must outlive our destruction and become
The messenger of our Thermopylae!
Oh, Travis! let me fight and die with thee!
No, Reverend Sir! a higher duty still
More painful, more exalted far than ours,
Devolves on thee. Our trial will be brief;
A minute's pang, scarce felt and we are gone,
While thine will be a task of life-long grief.
By virtue of my office I command thee
To spare no pains, fear neither scorn nor death.
So as to gain a Christian sepulture
For our remains from the victorious foe.
Mark well the spot where we are laid at rest,
That it become a fane of pilgrimage
To grateful and admiring patriots.