_Dion._ Nay, not with me, Calippus, The battle rests, but with the unknown warrior Gods lend our fainting cause. Where'er he strikes The gash�d enemy look on their wounds And turn like death-met fear to seek a cover. _Aris._ Ay! Once he fell, but rose with such new might He seemed like Mars who, tripped on Trojan field, Uprising threw his shoulders 'gainst the clouds And darkened heaven. _Panthus._ By Zeus, he'd dare to hale Rhamnusia from her wing�d car and turn Her gryphons to the winds! _Dion._ Back to his aid! _Pan._ Your wound, my lord. _Cal._ Give valor space to breathe. There'll be brave puffing ere the wall is down. The channel banks it close, but we may breach it. _Speu._ It must be done, and must, sir, captains may In war. _Dion._ Then to it! We waste breath. _Pan._ Stay, sir! We go--not you--for when our general bleeds Each man afield bleeds with him. See, your wound! By Thaumas' claw-foot maids, 'tis past a scratch! _Dion._ I feel not this--but O, fair Syracuse! Rock in thy fiery cradle till the sea Gets up to weep, and bending gods pour down Remorseful tears to drown the reddening shame That blushes o'er the moon and writes the name Of hell upon the stars! [_A sudden burst of noise and flame from the heights of Achridina_] Art gone, my city?... Ah, fallen Dionysius, must thou Lose all, then cast thy soul to swell the loss? It is thy kingly reputation burns, With all that thou mightst own in fair Elysium! [_Shouting, left_] _Speu._ The wall! the wall! They charge! _Pan._ The stranger leads! Ho, come, Speusippus! _Dion._ On! on, on, my friends! [_Exeunt, left. The flames from Achridina die down. Semi-darkness. Men enter and creep about the blackened ruins. Soft light in the East_] _First man._ Now Ceres mend our bones! Will 't e'er be light? _Second man._ Ay, yonder winks the dawn. _First man._ This blindfold war Is Horror past familiar--her leper cheek Bowsing both cheeks like mistress privileged. _Third man._ Gods keep us! Many a man has died this night Upon his dear friend's sword. The treacherous torch And threatening glare of flames too oft betrayed The panic-glaz�d eye. [_Domenes rushes on from left. Speusippus following_] _First man._ Domenes? _Second man._ Ay, The captain of the tyrant's guards. The Greek Is on him! _Third man._ Down! _Dom._ Spare me! I'll give you news! _Speu._ Live while your tongue wags. Speak! What of the fleet From Italy?