He had come, our king, unique in his beauty, adorned with marvellous deeds! And, full of a secret sadness, we recalled his face, shy and terrible. THE FIRST WATCHER: It is thus that.... THE MESSENGER: If anyone dared to speak to him, unaddressed, saying, "Who are you?" He looked at him a moment, and answered, "I am what I seem to be. You are not mistaken." "Oh!" one said to him, "Oh, war! When shall we have peace?" "You wish to live in peace?" "Surely," he answered, "Yes, indeed." "Coward, you cannot! Even now they come to rob you of your goods And the man is at hand who will take you, caught by the scruff of the neck, and geld you like a domestic animal." And the questioner said, "What can I do?" "Fight!" he answered, "Resist!" "And conquer also, perhaps?" "You can do it," he replied and he looked at him fixedly. "O man insulted and outraged, To-day you can wash away your shame and rise from your baseness and give the lie to the name they have bestowed upon you!" These words were repeated and often he who heard them Did not forget them, but, leaving his wife alone in her bed to weep, He paced all night the floor of his room, pondering this question, "If I try, why cannot I?" Until a little phrase, full of a sense of strength, Impinged upon his consciousness: "I can!" THE FIRST WATCHER: It is astonishing! It is utterly astonishing! I did not believe what they told me. THE MESSENGER: Then it was That in the unhappy soul was born the fury of the captive! Renouncing life and crying "Forward!", they flocked to where the bugle sounded the assembly. Still not sure of themselves, When, like a superintendent among his workmen, he walked among them, looking at them all, assuring himself That everything was according to his command. They turned to him their ranks of eyes of every kind and hue, and they were comforted again. To a man they gladly left their families and their work. There was on the slope a mighty growth of broom, tree of yellow flowers, dear to the bees. He had it cut down and, having kissed it, he bade them bear it before him. Then he mounted his horse. And the soldiers waiting their turn to set out, Heard behind them the rustling of the flag, cock of the war, song of sails! ALL: Come! Speak! Speak! THE MESSENGER: But when they came to the field where they had to die or conquer, They knew another flag. THE FIRST WATCHER: What flag? THE MESSENGER: What flag? Not a tatter of silk, not a woman's shirt that a child waves about on the end of a bean-pole! But like some old gibbet that creaks beneath its burden of corpses, like a mast with its sinister yardarms, The monstrous standard of our wretchedness, enormous, charged with chains! They saw it while they set their feet on a soil enriched by the flesh Of their fathers and mothers, like fallen leaves! At first they kept their ranks, fighting shoulder to shoulder, and thus it was for some time. But finally full of a rage like the lust for gold,