Theogenes monologue (Act 3) — Numantia

Our fate, dear friends, hath brought us to such stress, Our woes hang o'er us with such deepening gloom, That death would be supremest happiness. Ye saw; prophetic of our coming doom, The sacrifice with all its omens dread; Ye saw Marquino swallowed in the tomb; Our bold defiance hath to nothing led; What more remains to do I cannot tell, Except to speed our passage to the dead. This night let each Numantian bosom swell With ardour suited to our past renown, And let our actions match our purpose well; Let us with might the hostile wall break down, And on the field die fighting with the foe, And not like cowards in this straitened town. This deed will only serve, full well I know, To change the mode in which we have to die, For Death will march with us where'er we go.