Morandro monologue (Act 3) — Numantia

Lyra, dry thy saddened eyes, And let mine with tears of woe Like to mighty rivers flow, Swollen by thy griefs and sighs. Though this hunger, raging high, Grasp thee firm in deadly strife, While I have one spark of life, Thou shalt not of hunger die. In an instant will I flee, Leap the ditch, and break the wall, And will Death himself appal, Till he loose his grasp of thee. From the Romans' mouth, alone, If my vigour hath not fled, I will snatch the very bread, And will place it in thine own. With my arm, in deadly fight, From the jaws of Death I'll free thee For it kills me more to see thee, Lady dear, in such a plight. Bread to eat I'll bring to thee, Spite of all the Romans do, If my hands are strong and true, As of old they used to be.