_Leader of Men_. When thy hills shall have been steeped for a thousand
years in history, then thou wilt be patient.

_Leader of Women_. What thou feelest is not the axe nor the
fire-brand, but the Spirit of Man moving in thy demesnes.

_Leader of Men_. Lo, where it comes! Lo, where the shadow falls!

[_Enter_ Benedict Arnold. _He is in the Uniform of an American
General. He limps._]

_Both Choruses_. A light thing is man and his suffering very little.

If he can but endure for a short time, death saves him. Lo, his
release cometh and his happiness is long.

Fame forever follows in the steps of the just man: an unending life
springs up behind him.

Children follow him: a good father's life is a lamp that burns in the
heart of the son.

How short is the struggle of the greatest hero, and how long his fame!
Save me from pride and from the expectation of praise from men.

_Arnold_. He may not come.--
What if it were a ruse to capture me?--
The whole proceeding cloaked in infamy,
And no faith in the matter?
Andre should be here. Andre is a man
Of sterling honor, and will keep his faith.
My secret's in his hand.--My change of heart
Must to His Majesty have long been known,
And he will praise me for it. Civil war
Knows no such thing as treason; change of sides,
The victory of reason in the heart,
Makes Loyalist turn Whig. Montgomery,
Richard Montgomery, was honor's darling;
And when his body fell, scaling Quebec,
Down the sheer rock it left a track of light
Which sped in opposition towards the stars
Bearing his fame. He was an officer
In the King's army ere he found our own.
Did conscience fret the gallant Irishman
To think what uniform was on his back
When he so died? What if in that assault
I had died too, my name had ranked with his
In song and monument; unfading laurels
Had shed their brazen lustre o'er our brows,
And we, like demigods, had lived forever.
Was it enough for _him_, to scale the sky
Against the slippery adamant of Fame,
And, giving youth, give all? I have done more.
All of his early prowess was mine too:
In everything I match him; and to me
Remains the hell of glory on the Lakes,
When with my hand I stopped the British fleet,--
Stayed them a year: they dreaded to come on.
And I had done it. There remain my fights
At Ridgefield, and those shortened days
At Saratoga, when the fit came on
And I knew