but let that pass! Auria itself is now but one wide tomb For all its habitants:—What better grave? What worthier monument?... Oh cover not Their blood, thou Earth! and ye, ye blessëd Souls Of Heroes and of murder’d Innocents, Oh never let your everlasting cries Cease round the Eternal Throne, till the Most High For all these unexampled wrongs hath given Full, ... overflowing vengeance! While she spake She raised her lofty hands to Heaven, as if Calling for justice on the Judgement-seat; Then laid them on her eyes, and leaning on Bent o’er the open sepulchre. But soon With quiet mien collectedly, like one Who from intense devotion, and the act Of ardent prayer, arising, girds himself For this world’s daily business, ... she arose, And said to Roderick, Help me now to raise The covering of the tomb. With half-burnt planks Which she had gather’d for this funeral use They roof’d the vault, then laying stones above They closed it down; last, rendering all secure, Stones upon stones they piled, till all appear’d A huge and shapeless heap. Enough, she cried; And taking Roderick’s hands in both her own, And wringing them with fervent thankfulness, May God shew mercy to thee, she exclaim’d, When most thou needest mercy! Who thou art I know not; not of Auria, ... for of all Her sons and daughters, save the one who stands Before thee, not a soul is left alive. But thou hast render’d to me, in my hour Of need, the only help which man could give. What else of consolation may be found For one so utterly bereft, from Heaven And from myself must come. For deem not thou That I shall sink beneath calamity: This visitation, like a lightning-stroke, Hath scathed the fruit and blossom of my youth; One hour hath orphan’d me, and widow’d me, And made me childless. In this sepulchre Lie buried all my earthward hopes and fears, All human loves and natural charities; ... All womanly tenderness, all gentle thoughts, All female weakness too, I bury here, Yea, all my former nature. There remain Revenge and death: ... the bitterness of death Is past, and Heaven already hath vouchsafed A foretaste of revenge. Look here! she cried, And drawing back, held forth her bloody hands, ... ’Tis Moorish!... In the day of massacre, A captain of Alcahman’s murderous host Reserved me from the slaughter. Not because My rank and station tempted him with thoughts Of ransom, for amid the general waste Of ruin all was lost; ... Nor yet, be sure, That pity moved him, ... they who from this race Accurst for pity look, such pity find As ravenous wolves shew the defenceless flock. My husband at my feet had fallen; my babe, ... Spare me that thought, O God!... and then ... even then Amid the maddening throes of agony Which rent my soul, ...