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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=534065" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Roll Of The De Silve Race</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=534065" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">[HERNANI, Act III.]</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=534065" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In that reverend face<br>Behold the father of De Silva's race,<br>Silvius; in Rome he filled the consul's place<br>Three times (your patience for such honored names).<br>This second was Grand Master of St. James<br>And Calatrava; his strong limbs sustained<br>Armor which ours would sink beneath. He gained<br>Thirty pitched battles, and took, as legends tell,<br>Three hundred standards from the Infidel;<br>And from the Moorish King Motril, in war,<br>Won Antiquera, Suez, and Nijar;<br>And then died poor. Next to him Juan stands,<br>His son; his plighted hand was worth the hands<br>Of kings. Next Gaspar, of Mendoza's line--<br>Few noble stems but chose to join with mine:<br>Sandoval sometimes fears, and sometimes woos<br>Our smiles; Manriquez envies; Lara sues;<br>And Alancastre hates. Our rank we know:<br>Kings are but just above us, dukes below.<br>Vasquez, who kept for sixty years his vow--<br>Greater than he I pass. This reverend brow,<br>This was my sire's--the greatest, though the last:<br>The Moors his friend had taken and made fast--<br>Alvar Giron. What did my father then?<br>He cut in stone an image of Alvar,<br>Cunningly carved, and dragged it to the war;<br>He vowed a vow to yield no inch of ground<br>Until that image of itself turned round;<br>He reached Alvar--he saved him--and his line<br>Was old De Silva's, and his name was mine--<br>Ruy Gomez.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=534065" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">King CARLOS. Drag me from his lurking-place<br>The traitor!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=534065" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">[DON RUY _leads the_ KING _to the portrait behind<br>which_ HERNANI _is hiding_.]</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=534065" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Sire, your highness does me grace.<br>This, the last portrait, bears my form and name,<br>And you would write this motto on the frame!<br>'This last, sprung from the noblest and the best,<br>Betrayed his plighted troth, and sold his guest!'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Victor+Hugo">Victor Hugo</a></strong></div>