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Stranger. Lo! Behold again!
If there be atoms of him left, or even Arnold. What! that low, swarthy, short-of the more solid gold that formed his urn. nosed, round-eyed satyr,
Arnold. Who was this Glory of mankind? With the wide nostrils and Silenus' aspect, Stranger. The shame The splay feet and low stature! I had Of Greece in peace, her thunderbolt in warbetter
Demetrius the Macedonian and Remain that which I am.
Taker of cities. Stranger. And yet he was
Arnold. Yet one shadow more. The earth's perfection of all mental beauty, Stranger (addressing the Shadow). Get And personification of all virtue.
thee to Lamia's lap! But you reject him?
[The Shade of Demetrius Poliorcetes Arnold. If his form could bring me
vanishes : another rises, That which redeemed it-no.
Stranger. I'll fit you still, Stranger. I have no power
Fear not, my Hunchback. If the shadows of To promise that; but you may try, and That which existed please not your nice find it
taste, Easier in such a form, or in your own. I'll animate the ideal marble, till
Arnold. No. I was not born for philosophy, Your soul be reconciled to her new garment. Though I have that about me which has Arnold. Content! I will fix here. need on't.
Stranger. I must commend Let him fleet on
Your choice. The god-like son of the SeaStranger. Be air, thou hemlock-drinker!
Goddess, [The Shadow of Socrates disappears: The unshorn boy of Peleus, with his locis another rises.
As beautiful and clear as the amber-waves Arnold. What's here? whose broad brow Of rich Pactolus rolled o'er sands of gold, and whose curly beard
Softened by intervening crystal, and And manly aspect look like Hercules, Rippled like flowing waters by the wind, Save that his jocund eye hath more of All vowed to Sperchius as they were-beBacchus
hold them! Than the sad Purger of the infernal world, And him—as he stood by Polixena, Leaning dejected on his club of conquest, With sanctioned and with softened love, As if he knew the worthlessness of those
before For whom he had fought.
The altar, gazing on his Trojan bride, Stranger. It was the man who lost With some remorse within for Hector slain The ancient world for love.
And Priam weeping, mingled with deep Arnold. I cannot blame him,
passion Since I have risked my soul because I For the sweet downcast virgin, whose
find not That which he exchanged the earth for. Trembled in his who slew her brother. Sa Stranger. Since so far
He stood i' the temple! Luok a pon him as You scem congenial, will you wear his Greece look'd her last upon her best, the features ?
instant Arnold. No. As you leave me choice, 1 Ere Paris' arrow flew. am difficult,
Arnold. I gaze npon him If but to see the heroes I should ne'er As if I were his soul, whose form shall soos Have seen else on this side of the dim Envelop mine. shore
Stranger. You have done well. The Whence they float back before us.
greatest Stranger. Hence, Triumvir!
Deformity should only barter with Thy Cleopatra 's waiting.
The extremest beauty, if the proverb's true [The Shade of Anthony disappears Of mortals, that extremes meet. another rises.
Arnold. Come! Be quick! Arnold. Who is this?
I am impatient. Who truly looketh like a demigod, Stranger. As a youthful beauty Blooming and bright, with golden hair, Before her glass. You both see what is not and stature,
But dream it is what must be. If not more high than mortal, yet immortal Arnold. Must I wait? In all that nameless bearing of his limbs, Stranger. No; that were pity. But i Which he wears as the Sun his rays-a
word or two: something
His stature is twelve cubits : would you so far Which shines from him, and yet is but the Outstep these times, and be a Titan? Or flashing
(To talk canonically) wax a Son Emanation of a thing more glorious still. Of Anak? Was he e'er human only?
Arnold. Why not? Stranger. Let the earth speak,
Stranger. Glorious ambition!
I love thee most in dwarfe. A mortal of Had she exposed me, like the Spartan, ere Philistine stature would have gladly pared I knew the passionate part of life, I had His own Goliath down to a slight David; Been a clod of the valley,—happier nothing But thou, my manikin, wouldst soar a show Than what I am. But even thus, the lowest, Rather than hero. Thou shalt be indulged, Ugliest, and meanest of mankind, what If such be thy desire; and yet by being
courage A little less removed from present men And perseverance could bave done,perchance In figure, thou canst sway them more; for all Had made me something--as it has made Would rise against thee now, as if to hunt
heroes new found mammoth; and their cursed of the same mould as mine. You lately
engines, Theirculverins and so forth, would find way Master of my own life, and quick to quit it; Through our friend's armour there, with And he who is so, is the master of greater ease
Whatever dreads to die.
Arnold. I have done so.
And sweeter to my heart. As I am now, And strong as what it was, and
I might be feared, admired, respected, loved Arnold. I ask not
Of all save those next to me, of whom I For valour, since deformity is daring. Would be beloved. As thou showest me It is its essence to o'ertake mankind A choice of forms, I take the one I view. By heart and soul,and make itself the equal_Haste! haste! Aye, the superior of the rest. There is Stranger. And what shall I wear ? A spur in its halt movements, to become Arnold. Surely he All that the others cannot, in such things Who can command all forms, will choose As still are free to both, to compensate
the highest, For stepdame Nature's avarice at first. Something superior even to that which was They woo with fearless deeds the smiles of Pelides now before us. Perhaps his Fortune,
Who slew him, that of Paris: or-still And oft, like Timour the lame Tartar, win higherthem.
The poet's God, clothed in such limbs as are Stranger. Well spoken! And thou doubt-Themselves a Poetry. less wilt remain
Stranger. Less will content me; Formed as thou art? I may dismiss the mould For I too love a change. of shadow, which must turn to flesh, to Arnold. Your aspect is
Dusky, but not unconely. This daring soul, which could achieve no less Stranger. If I chose, Without it?
I might be whiter; but I have a penchant Arnold. Had no Power presented me For black-it is so honest, and besides The possibility of change, I would Can neither blush with shame nor pale Have done the best which Spirit may,to make
with fear: Its way, with all deformity's dull, deadly, But I have worn it long enough of late, Discouraging weight upon me, like a moun- And now I'll take your figure. tain,
Arnold. Mine! In feeling,on my heart as on my shoulders- Stranger. Yes. You A hateful and unsightly molehill to Shall change with Thetis' son, and I with The eyes of happier man. I would have
Your mother's offspring. People have their On beauty in that sex which is the type
[The Stranger takes some earth and not love me
moulds it along the turf. And In turn, because of this vile crooked clog
then addresses the Phantom of Which makes me lonely. Nay, I could
Achilles. have borne
Beautiful Shadow It all, had not my mother sparned me from
Of Thetis's boy! her.
Who sleeps in the ineadow The she-bear licks her cubs into a sort
Whose grass grows o'er Troy, Of shape;-my doan beheld my shape was From the red earth, like Adamu, hopeless
Thy likeness I shape,
As the Being who made him, Who make men without women's aid, hare
Your interlopers. The devil may take men, Be as fair as, when blowing, Not make them, - though he reap the benefit It wears its first streak!
of the original workmanship:-and thereYe violets, I scatter,
fore Now turn into eyes!
Some une must be found to assume the shape
You have quitted.
Arnold. Who would do so?
Stranger. That I know not,
Stranger. I said it ere
Arnold. True. I forget all things in
the new joy
Of this immortal change.
Stranger. In a few moments
I will be as you were, and you shall ser
Yourself for ever by you, as your shadow.
Arnold. I would be spared this.
Stranger. But it cannot be.
Arnold. Do as thou wilt.
Stranger (to the late form of Arnold, er.
tended on the earth).
Clay! not dead, but soul-less!
Though no man would choose thee,
An immortal no less
Designs not to refuse thee.
Clay thou art; and unto spirit
All clay is of equal merit.
passes into the shape of Achilles, Fire! vithout which nought can live;
was formed from the earth. Praying what doth not forgive, Arnold (in his new form). I love, and I Howling for a drop of water, shall be beloved! Oh life!
Burning in a quenchless lot:
Where nor fish, beast, bird, nor worm, What shall become of your abandoned Save the worm which dieth not, garment,
Can preserve a moment's form, Your hump, and lump, and clod of ugliness, But must with thyself be blent: Which late you wore, or were?
Fire! man's safeguard and his slaughter: Arnold. Who cares! Let wolves Fire! Creation's first-born daughter, And vultures take it, if they will.
And Destruction's threatened son, Stranger. And if
When Heaven with the world hath done: They do, and are not scared by it, you'll say Fire! assist me to renew It must be peace-time, and no better fare Life in what lies in my view Abroad i' the fields.
Stiff and cold ! Arnold. Let us but leave it there, His resurrection rests with me and you! No matter what becomes on't.
One little, marshy spark of flameStranger. That's ungracious,
And he again shall seem the same; If not ungrateful. Whatsoe'er it be, But I his spirit's place shall hold! It hath sustained your soul full many a day.
An Ignis-fatuus flits through the Arnold. Aye, as the dunghill may con
wood, and rests on the brour of
the body. The Stranger dieWhich is now set in gold, as jewels should be.
appears: the body rises. Stranger. But if I give another form, it Arnold (in his new form). Oh! horrible! must be
Stranger (in Arnold's late shape). What! By fair exchange, not robbery. For they tremblest thon?
ceal a gem
Arnold. Not 80
Arnold. And these, I merely shudder. Where is fled the shape Our dark-eyed pages — what may be their Thou lately worest?
names ? Stranger To the world of shadowe. Stranger. You shall baptise them. But let ng thread the present. Whither Arnold. What! in holy water? wilt thou ?
Stranger. Why not! The deeper sinner, Arnold. Must thou be my companion ? better saint. Stranger. Wherefore not?
Arnold. They are beautiful, and cannot, Your betters keep worse company.
sure, be demons ? Arnold. My betters !
Stranger. True; the Devil's always uglys Stranger. Oh! yon wax proud, I
and your beauty
Is never diabolical.
Who bears the golden horn, and wears You improve apace :- two changes in an such bright instant,
And blooming aspect, Huon; for he looks And you are old in the world's ways already. Like to the lovely boy lost in the forest But bear with me: indeed you'll find me And never found till now. And for the other useful
And darker, and more thoughtful, who Upon your pilgrimage. But come, pronounce
smiles not, Where shall we nuw be errant ?
But looks as serious though serene as night, Arnold. Where the world
He shall be Memnon, from the Ethiop king Is thickest, that I may behold it in Whose statue turns a harper once a day. Its workings.
And you ? Stranger. That's to say where there is war Stranger. I have ten thousand names, And woman in activity. Let's see !
and twice Spain - Italy - the new Atlantic world- As many attributes; but as I wear Afric with all its Moors. In very truth, A human shape, will take a human name. There is small choice: the whole race are Arnold. More human than the shape just now
(though it was mine once)
Arnold. Why, that name
Belongs to empires, and has been but borne And scarce a better to be found on earth, By the world's Lords. Since Sodom was put out. The field is Stranger. And therefore fittest for wide too;
The Devil in disguise – since so you For now the Frank, and Hun, and Spanish
deem me, scion
Unless you call me Pope instead. of the old Vandals are at play along Arnold. Well then, The sunny shores of the world's garden. Cæsar thou shalt be. For myself, my name Arnold. How
Shall be plain Arnold still. Shall we proceed ?
Cæsar. We'll add a titleStrangers. Like gallants,on good coursers. “Count Arnold:” it hath no ungracious What ho! my chargers! Never yet were
And will look well upon a billet-doux. Since Phaeton was upset into the Po. Arnold. Or in an order for a battle-field. Our Pages too!
Casar (sings). To horse! to horse! my
coal-black steed Enter two Pages, with four coal-black Horscs.
Paws the ground and snuffs the air ; Arnold. A noble sight!
There's not a foal of Arab's breed Stranger. And of
More knows whom he must bear! A nobler breed. Match me in Barbary, On the hill he will not tire, Or your Kochlany race of Araby,
Swifter as it waxes higher ; With these!
In the marsh he will not slacken, Arnold. The mighty stream, which On the plain be overtaken; volumes high
In the wave he will not sink, From their progd nostrils,burns the very air: Nor pause at the brook's side to drink; And sparks of flame, like dancing fire-flies, In the race he will not pant, wheel
In the combat he'll not faint ; Around their manes, as common insccts On the stones he will not stumble,
Time nor toil shall make him humblo; Round common steeds towards sunset. In the stall he will not stiffen, Stranger. Mount, my Lord ;
But be winged as a Griffin, They and I are your scrvitors.
Only flying with his feet:
of an eye.
And will not such a voyage be sweet? Of fixed Necessity : against her edict
Cæsar. 'Tis no rebellion. From the Alps to the Caucasus, ride we, Arnold. Will it prosper now? or fly!
Cæsar. The Bourbon bath given orders For we'll leave them behind in the glance for the assault,
And by the dawn there will be work. [They mount their horses, and dis- Arnold. Alas! appear.
And shall the City yield ? I see the giant
Abode of the true God, and his true Saint, SCENE II.-A Camp before the Walls of Saint Peter, rear its dome and cross into Rome.
That sky whence Christ ascended from the
cross, ARNOLD and CÆSAR.
Which his blood made a badge of glory and Cæsar. You are well entered now. Of joy (as once of torture unto him, Arnold. Aye; but my path
God and God's Son, man's sole and only Has been o'er carcasses: mine eyes are full
refuge). Of blood.
Cæsar. 'Tis there, and shall be.
Cæsar. The Crucifix
Pile above pile of everlasting wall, Arnold. How old? What! are there The theatrewhere emperors and their subjects New worlds ?
(Those subjects Romans) stood a gaze upon Cæsar. To you. You'll find there are The battles of the monarchs of the wild such shortly,
And wood, the lion and his tusky rebels By their rich harvests, new disease, and gold; of the then untamed desert, brought to joast From one half of the world named a whole In the arena; (as right well they might, new one,
When they had left no human foe ancosBecause you know no better than the dull quered ;) And dubious notice of your eyes and ears. Made even the forest pay its tribute of Arnold. I'll trust them.
Life to their amphitheatre, as well Cæsar. Do ! They will deceive you As Dacia men to die the eternal death sweetly,
For a sole instant's pastime, and --Pass es And that is better than the bitter truth. To a new gladiator!”– Must it fall ? Arnold. Dog!
Cæsar. The city or the amphitheatre! Cæsar. Man!
The church,or one,or all ? for you confound Arnold. Devil!
Both them and me. Cæsar. Your obedient, humble servant. Arnold. To-morrow sounds the assault Arnold. Say Master rather. Thou hast With the first cock-crow. lured me on,
Cæsar. Which, if it end with Through scenes of blood and lust, till i The evening's first nightingale, will be am here.
Something new in the annals of great sieges: Cæsar. And where would'st thou be? Formen must have their prey after long toil. Arnold. Oh, at peace-in peace! Arnold. The Sun goes down as calmly, Cæsar. And where is that which is so?
and perhaps From the star
More beautifully, than he did on Rome To the winding worm, all life is motion ; On the day Remus leapt her wall. and
Cæsar. I saw him. In life commotion is the extremest point Arnold. You ! Of life. The planet wheels till it becomes Cæsar. Yes, Sir. You forget I am or was A comet, and destroying as it sweeps Spirit, till I took up with your cast shape The stars, goes out. The poor worm winds And a worse name. I'm Cæsar and a bunch
back Living npon the death of other things, Now. Well! the first of Cæsars was a baldBut still, like them, must live and die,
head, the subject
And loved his laurels better as a wig Of something which has made it live and die. (So history says) than as glory. Thus You must obey what all obey, the rule The world runs on, but we'll be merry still