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!

young hand

saw me

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.
Than the adulterer's arrow through his heel Stranger! Decide between
Which Thetis had forgotten to baptise What you have been, or will be.
In Styx.

Arnold. I have done so.
Arnold. Then let it be as thou deem'st best. You have open'd brighter prospects to my
Stranger. Thou shalt be beauteous as

the thing thou seest,

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

Bertha looked

Your mother's offspring. People have their On beauty in that sex which is the type

tastes ;
Of all we know or dream of beautiful You have yours—I mine.
Beyond the world they brighten with a sigh Arnold. "Despatch! despatch!
Not of love but despair; nor sought to win, Stranger. Even so.
Though to a heart all love, what could

[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
Whose actions I ape.

Thou clay, be all glowing, Had patents for the same, and do not love
Till the rose in his cheek

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
And thou sunshiny water,

You have quitted.
Of blood take the guise !

Arnold. Who would do so?
Let these hyacinth boughs

Stranger. That I know not,
Be his long, flowing hair, And therefore I must.
And wave o'er his brows,

Arnold. You!
As thou wavest in air!

Stranger. I said it ere
Let his heart be this marble You inhabited your present dome of beauty.
I tear from the rock !

Arnold. True. I forget all things in
But his voice as the warble

the new joy
Of birds on yon oak !

Of this immortal change.
Let his flesh be the purest

Stranger. In a few moments
Of mould, in which grew

I will be as you were, and you shall ser
The lily-root suurest,

Yourself for ever by you, as your shadow.
And drank the best dew !

Arnold. I would be spared this.
Let his limbs be the lightest

Stranger. But it cannot be.
Which clay can compound! What! shrink already, being what you are,
And his aspect the brightest From seeing what you were ?
On earth to be found!

Arnold. Do as thou wilt.
Elements, near me,

Stranger (to the late form of Arnold, er.
Be mingled and stirred,

tended on the earth).
Know me, and hear me,

Clay! not dead, but soul-less!
And leap lo my word!

Though no man would choose thee,
Sunbeams, awaken

An immortal no less
This earth's animation !

Designs not to refuse thee.
Tis done! He hath taken

Clay thou art; and unto spirit
His stand in Creation!

All clay is of equal merit.
[Arnold falls senseless; his soul

passes into the shape of Achilles, Fire! vithout which nought can live;
which rises from the ground; Fire! but in which nought can live,
while the Phantom has disappear- Save the fabled salamander,
ed, part by part, as the figure Or immortal souls which wander,

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:
At last I feel thee! Glorious spirit! Fire! the only element
Stranger. Stop!

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
of your new form:

Is never diabolical.
I'm glad of that. Ungrateful too! That's Arnold. I'll call him

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)
Tugging as usual at each other's hearts. I trust.
Arnold. I have heard great things of Stranger. Then call me Cæsar.

Arnold. Why, that name
Stranger. A goodly choice-

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

sound, better,

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
Merrily! merrily! never unsound, Rebellion prospers not.
Shall our bonny black horses skim over Arnold. And when it prospers-
the ground!

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. Then wipe them, and see clearly. Arnold. What?

Cæsar. The Crucifix
Thou art a conqueror; the chosen knight Above, and many altar-shrines below.
And free companion of the gallant Bourbon, Also some calverins upon the walls,
Late Constable of France; and now to be And harquebusses, and what not, besides
Lord of the city which hath been Earth's lord The men who are to kindle them to death
And its Emperors', and-changing sex, Of other men.
Not sceptre, an hermaphrodite of empire- Arnold. And those scarce mortal arches,
Lady of the Old World.

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

its way,

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