NAAMAN:
And thou rememberest this?
RUAHMAH:
As clear as yesterday! Master, I saw
Thee riding on a snow-white horse beside
Our king; and all we joyful little maids
Strewed boughs of palm along the victors' way,
For you had driven out the enemy,
Broken; and both our lands were friends and free.
NAAMAN: [Sadly.]
Well, they are past, those noble days! The days
When nations would imperil all to keep
Their liberties, are only memories now.
The common cause is lost,--and thou art brought,
The captive of some mercenary raid,
Some skirmish of a gold-begotten war,
To serve within my house. Dost thou fare well?
RUAHMAH:
Master, thou seest.
NAAMAN:
Yes, I see! My child,
Why do they hate thee so?
RUAHMAH:
I do not know,
Unless because I will not bow to Rimmon.
NAAMAN:
Thou needest not. I fear he is a god
Who pities not his people, will not save.
My heart is sick with doubt of him. But thou
Shalt hold thy faith,--I care not what it is,--
Worship thy god; but keep thy spirit free.
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