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Van Dyke, Henry, 1852-1933

"The Poems of Henry Van Dyke"

She won the King
To furnish forth this company. She led
Our march, kept us in heart, fought off despair,
Watched over you as if you were her child,
Prepared your food, your cup, with her own hands,
Sang you asleep at night, awake at dawn,--
NAAMAN: [Interrupting.]
Enough! I do remember every hour
Of that sweet comradeship! And now her voice
Wakens the echoes in my lonely breast.
Shall I not see her, thank her, speak her name?
Ruahmah! Let me live till I have looked
Into her eyes and called her my Ruahmah!
[To his soldiers.]
Away! away! I burn to take the road
That leads me back to Rimmon's House,--
But not to bow,--by God, never to bow!

SCENE II
TIME: _Three days later_
_Inner court of the House of Rimmon; a temple with huge pillars at
each side. In the right foreground the seat of the King; at the
left, of equal height, the seat of the High Priest. In the
background a broad flight of steps, rising to a curtain of cloudy
gray, embroidered with two gigantic hands holding thunderbolts.
The temple is in half darkness at first. Enter KHAMMA and NUBTA,
robed as Kharimati, or religious dancers, in gowns of black gauze
with yellow embroideries and mantles.


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