a crusader's widow!

[Bursts into tears, and dashes herself on the floor.]

SCENE X

A street in the town of Schmalcald. Bodies of Crusading troops
defiling past. Lewis and Elizabeth with their suite in the
foreground.

Lewis. Alas! the time is near; I must be gone--
There are our liegemen; how you'll welcome us,
Returned in triumph, bowed with paynim spoils,
Beneath the victor cross, to part no more!

Eliz. Yes--we shall part no more, where next we meet.
Enough to have stood here once on such an errand!

Lewis. The bugle calls.--Farewell, my love, my lady,
Queen, sister, saint! One last long kiss--Farewell!

Eliz. One kiss--and then another--and another--
Till 'tis too late to go--and so return--
O God! forgive that craven thought! There, take him
Since Thou dost need him. I have kept him ever
Thine, when most mine; and shall I now deny Thee?
Oh! go--yes, go--Thou'lt not forget to pray,

[Lewis goes.]

With me, at our old hour? Alas! he's gone
And lost--thank God he hears me not--for ever.
Why look'st thou so, poor girl? I say, for ever.
The day I found the bitter blessed cross,
Something did strike my heart like keen cold steel,
Which quarries daily there with dead dull pains--
Whereby I know that we shall meet no more.
Come! Home, maids, home! Prepare me widow's weeds--
For he is dead to me, and I must soon
Die too to him, and many things; and mark me--
Breathe not his name, lest this love-pampered heart
Should sicken to vain yearnings--Lost! lost! lost!

Lady. Oh stay, and watch this pomp.

Eliz. Well said--we'll stay; so this bright enterprise
Shall blanch our private clouds, and steep our soul
Drunk with the spirit of great Christendom.

CRUSADER CHORUS.

[Men-at-Arms pass, singing.]

The tomb of God before us,
Our fatherland behind,
Our ships shall leap o'er billows steep,
Before a charmed wind.

Above our van great angels
Shall fight along the sky;
While martyrs pure and crowned saints
To God for rescue cry.

The red-cross knights and yeomen
Throughout the holy town,
In faith and might, on left and right,
Shall tread the paynim down.

Till on the Mount Moriah
The Pope of Rome shall stand;
The Kaiser and the King of France
Shall guard him on each hand.

There shall he rule all nations,
With crozier and with sword;
And pour on all the heathen
The wrath of Christ the Lord.

[Women--bystanders.]

Christ is a rock in the bare salt land,
To shelter our kn