_Rod._ But it leaves me arms, Vigour of soul and body, and a race Subject by law, and dutiful by choice, Whose hand is never to be holden fast Within the closing cleft of gnarled creeds; No easy prey for these vile mitred Moors. I, who received thy homage, may retort Thy threats, vain prelate, and abase thy pride. _Opas_. Low must be those whom mortal can sink lower, Nor high are they whom human power may raise. _Rod._ Judge now: for, hear the signal. _Opas_. And derides The buoyant heart the dubious gulfs of war? Trumpets may sound, and not to victory. _Rod._ The traitor and his daughter feel my power. _Opas_. Just God! avert it! _Rod._ Seize this rebel priest. I will alone subdue my enemies. [_Goes out_. THIRD ACT: SECOND SCENE. RAMIRO _and_ OSMA _enter from opposite sides_. _Ram._ Where is the king? his car is at the gate, His ministers attend him, but his foes Are yet more prompt, nor will await delay. _Osma_. Nor need they—for he meets them as I speak. _Ram._ With all his forces? or our cause is lost. Julian and Sisabert surround the walls. _Osma_. Surround, sayst thou? enter they not the gates? _Ram._ Perhaps ere now they enter. _Osma_. Sisabert Brings him our prisoner. _Ram._ They are friends! they held A parley; and the soldiers, when they saw Count Julian, lowered their arms and hailed him king? _Osma_. How? and he leads them in the name of king? _Ram._ He leads them; but amid that acclamation He turned away his head, and called for vengeance. _Osma_. In Sisabert, and in the cavalry He led, were all our hopes. _Opas_. Woe, woe is theirs Who have no other. _Osma_. What are thine? obey The just commands of our offended king: Conduct him to the tower—off—instantly. [_Guard hesitates_: OPAS _goes_. Ramiro, let us haste to reinforce— _Ram._ Hark! is the king defeated? hark! _Osma_. I hear Such acclamation as from victory Arises not, but rather from revolt, Reiterated, interrupted, lost. Favour like this his genius will retrieve By time, or promises, or chastisement, Whiche’er he choose—the speediest is the best— His danger and his glory let us share; ’Tis ours to serve him. _Ram._ While he rules ’tis ours. What chariot-wheels are thundering o’er the bridge? _Osma_. Roderigo’s—I well know them. _Ram._ Now, the burst Of acclamation! now! again, again. _Osma_. I know the voices; they are for Roderigo. _Ram._ Stay, I entreat thee—one hath now prevailed. So far is certain. _Osma_. Ay, the right prevails. _Ram._ Transient and vain their joyance, who rejoice Precipitately and intemperately, And bitter thoughts grow up where’er it fell.