SCENE VII

_The Hills of Romagna. Sheepfolds and Shepherds_; DUKE CESARE DE VALENTINOIS DELLA ROMAGNA _lying down in the midst of them_.

SHEPHERD.

.... You are our shepherd And ruler of our flocks: we are your flock.

AN OLD SHEPHERD.

Signore, I am happy, being blind To sit in the sun: I feel you are the sun.

A YOUNG SHEPHERD.

Lord Duke, you are our shepherd-- The reason this, that we forget our flocks, And yet our flocks graze placidly and seek The shadow and the stream as they were led.

A FATHER.

You are our king; you have danced with us--our maidens Consent to any yoke, for by-and-by They will bear children you will train in arms.

TWO SHEPHERDS.

[_Speaking together._] We are your kingdom, and we worship you. You have made us as a flock.

A YOUNG GOAT-HERD.

[_With a flute._] You are secret As the god Pan was secret to the folds. Lord Cesare, we love you.

CESARE.

[_Touching the lad’s flute._] And the flute.

[_The_ LAD _bursts into tears; one by him, his companion, says_:

SHEPHERD.

He cannot sing the kings: it is in battle When we hiss down in rage to die for them Our blood runs music.

CESARE.

You shall die in battle.

ALL THE SHEPHERDS.

We will all die: we will all live for you, Ready to die; Though we lie down, encompassing a city, Beneath your rule we can lie down in peace.

CESARE.

You are my chosen warriors.

A CROWD OF SHEPHERDS.

We are your shepherds, we must stay at home; We cannot leave our flocks.

CESARE.

You are Romagna, You are my people.

OLD SHEPHERD.

We are his people: we are Italy. He consecrates us too; he loves the valleys Where we rear up our lambs and sing our loves.

[_They all gather round as if longing for some outbreak of their enthusiasm._

What shall we do? Beat on our castanets, Fall on our knees, bring tribute?... But our prince Has infinite treasure.

CESARE.

You shall keep my castles. You are my garrisons; while you defend them I shall rest quiet, all Romagna mine. [_Rising._

THE FLUTE-BOY.

You will not go from us?

CESARE.

First, I command a song.

[_He sits down again, expectant. The_ BOY _sobs; then, fixing his eyes on the_ DUKE, _pauses, and after a few moments sings out shrilly_.

THE FLUTE-BOY.

The great lord Cesar Julius Crossed the Rubicon-- The army was great, It passed in state: And the host was gone.

There was none to see That mighty lord; The light on his face, The light on his sword, --And the history.

But a child on the bank Of the Rubicon, On his knees he sank, He stooped and drank, For his heart was faint that his lord was gone.

[_The Shepherds all weep._

CESARE.

[_Embracing the boy._] A master!--he shall sing you all I am. And now I pass to Rome, without farewell, For I am dwelling here and in your midst, And with you through all ages, in your music, Your sorrows, with the shadows on the hills, So close to you, a presence in your hearts. O my Romagna, there is no farewell! [_Exit._

A SHEPHERD.

He has slipped away: I knew he was a god. Boy, are you stricken? You should look up proudly.

THE BOY.

[_Taking up his flute and looking after_ CESARE.

I am stricken to the heart; he is a god.