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Arnold. Away! they must not rally. ** Arnold. And my thirst increases ;-but Cæsar. I tell thee, be not rash; a golden I'll find a way to quench it. bridge
Cæsar. Or be qaeneh'd thyself?
Arnold. The chance is even; we will A form of beauty, and an
throw Exemption from some maladies of body, The dice thereon. But I lose time in prating; But not of mind, which is not mine to give. Prithee be quick. But though I gave the form of Thetis' son,
[Cæsar binds on lke scarf. I dipt thee not in Styx; and 'gainst a foe
And what dost thou so idly? I would not warrant thy chivalric heart Why dost not strike? More than Pelides' heel; why then, be Cæsar. Your old philosophers cautious,
Beheld mankind, as mere spectators of And know thyself a mortal still.
The Olympic games. When i behold a prize Arnold. And who
Worth wrestling for, I may be found a Milo. With aught of soul would combat if he were Arnold. Aye, 'gainst an oak. Invulnerable? That were pretty sport.
Cæsar. A forest, when it suits me. Thinkst thou I beat for hares when lions I combat with a mass, or not at all. roar?
Meantime, pursue thy sport as I do mine: (Arnold rushes into the combat. Which is just now to gaze, since all these Cæsar. A precious sample of humanity!
Arnold. Thou art still
Cæsar. And thou--a man.
Arnold. Why, such I fain would show me I promise quarter.
Cæsar. True-as men are. Roman. That's soon said.
Arnold. And what is that? Arnold. And done
Cæsar. Thou feelest and thou seest. My word is known.
(Rrit Arnold, joining in the combat Roman. So shall be my deeds.
which still continues between detace[They re-engage. Cæsar comes forward. ed parties. The Scene closes. Cæsar. Why, Arnold! Hold thine own; thou hast in hand
SCENE III.--St. Peter's. The Interior of A famous artizan, a cunning sculptor ; the Church. The Pope at the Altar. Priests, Also a dealer in the sword and dagger. crowding in confusion, and Citizens fizing Not so, my musqueteer; 'twas he who slew for refuge, pursued by Soldiery. The Bourbon from the wall. Arnold. Aye, did he so?
Enter CESAR. Then he hath carved his monument.
A Spanish Soldier. Down with thein, Roman. I yet
comrades! seize upon these lamps! May live to carve your betters.
Cleave yon bald-pated shaveling to the Casar. Well said, my man of marble !
His rosary's of gold ! Thou hast some practice in both ways; Lutheran Soldier. Revenge! Revenge! and he
Plunder hereafter, but for vengeance novWho slays Cellini, will have work'd as hard Yonder stands Anti-Christ! As e'er thou didst upon Carrara's blocks. Cæsar (interposing). How now, Schis(Arnold disarms and wounds Cellini,
matic! but slightly; the latter draws a What wouldst thou ? pistol and fires; then retires and Lutheran Soldier. In the holy name of disappears through the portico.
Christ, Cæsar. How farest thou? Thou hast a Destroy proudAnti-Christ. I am a Christian. taste, methinks,
Cæsar. Yea, a disciple that would make of red Bellona's banquet.
the Founder Arnold (staggers). 'Tis a scratch. Of your belief renounce it, could he see Lend me thy scarf. He shall not 'scape Such proselytes. Best stint thyself to me thus.
plunder. Cæsar. Where is it?
Lutheran Soldier. I say he is the Devil Arnold. In the shoulder,not the sword-arm, Cæsar. Hush! keep that secret, And that's enough. I am thirsty: would i Lest he should recognize you for his own. had
Lutheran Soldier. Why would you save A helm of water!
him? I repeat he is Cæsar. That's a liquid now
The Devil, or the Devil's Vicar upon Earth. In requisition, but by no means easiest Casar. And that's the reason; vould To come at.
you makc a quarrel
ith your best friends ? You had far best Cæsar, And that were shame! Go to ! be quiet;
Assist in their conversion. is hour is not yet come.
[The Soldiers disperse; many quit the Lutheran Soldier. That shall be seen!
Church, others enter.
a shot strikes him from one of the And others come: so flows the wave on wave
Deeming themselves the breakers of the Cæsar (to the Lutheran). I told you so.
ocean, Luthcran Soldier. And will you not While they are but its bubbles, ignorant
T'hat foam is their foundation. So, another! Cæsar. Not I! You know that “Ven
Enter Olimpia, flying from the pursuit-She geance is the Lord's;" on see he loves no interlopers.
springs upon the altar. Lutheran (dying). Oh!
Soldier. She's mine. lad I but slain him, I had gone on high, Another Soldier (opposing the former). rowned with eternal glory! Heaven, You lie, I track'd her first; and, were she forgive
The Pope's niece, I'll not yield her. ly feebleness of arm that reach'd him not,
[They fight. ad take thy servant to thy mercy. 'Tis Third Soldier (advancing towardsOlimpia). glorious triumph still; proud Babylon's
You may settle o more; the Harlot of the Seven Hills Your claims ; I'll make mine good. lath changed her scarlet raiment for sack- Olimpia. Infernal slave! cloth
Yon touch me not alive. ind ashes!
(The Lutheran dies. Third Soldier. Alive or dead! Cæsar. Yes, thine own amidst the rest. Olimpia (embracing a massive crucifix). Vell done, old Babel!
Respect your God!
perately, while the Pontiff escapes, Girl, you but grasp your dowry.
and sudden effort, casts down the Cæsar. Ha! right nobly battled !
crucifix; it strikes the Soldier, who low, Priest! now, Soldier! the two great falls. professions,
Third Soldier. Oh, great God! 'ogether by the ears and hearts! I have not Olimpia. Ah! now you recognize him. ieen a more comic pantomime since Titus Third Soldier. My brain's crushed! Cook Jewry. But the Romans had the best Comrades, help ho! All's darkness ! then;
[He dies. Now they must take their turn.
Other Soldiers (coming up). Slay her, Soldiers. He bath escaped ! Follow!
although she had a thousand lives: Another Soldier. They have barred the She hath killed our comrade. narrow passage up,
Olimpia. Welcome such a death! Ind it is clogged with dead even to the door. You have no life to give, which the worst Cæsar. I am glad he hath escaped: he
slave may thank me for't
Would take. Great God! through thy In part. I would not have his Bulls abo- redeeming Son, lished
And thy Son's Mother, now receive me as T'were worth one half our empire: his I would approach thee, worthy her, and Indulgences
him, and thee! Demand some in return;-no, no, he must not Pall;- and besides, his now escape may
Enter ARNOLD. furnish
Arnold. What do I see? Accursed Jackalls! I future miracle, in future proof
Forbear! of his infallibility. [To the Spanish Soldiers. Cæsar (aside, and laughing). Ha! ha! Well, Cut-throats !
here's equity! The dogs What do you pause for? If you make not Have as much right as he. But to the issue! haste,
Soldiers. Count, she hath slain our There will not be a link of pious gold left.
comrade. Ind you too, Catholics! Would ye return Arnold. With what weapon? from such a pilgrimage without a relic? Soldier. The cross, beneath which he is l'he very Lutherans have more true devotion: crushed; behold him See how they strip the shrines !
Lie there, more like a worm than man ; Soldiers. By holy Peter!
she cast it He speaks the trulli; the heretics will bear Upon his head. The best away.
Arnold. Even so; there is a woman
Worthy a brave man's liking. Were ye | No injury ! And now thou vouldst such,
preserve me, Ye would have honoured her. But get ye To be—but that shall never be! hence,
[She raises her eyes to Hearen, folds And thank your meanness, other God you
her robe round her, and prepares to have none,
dash herself down on the side of the For your existence. Had you touched a hair
Altar opposite to that where Arnold Of those dishevelled locks, I would have
Arnold. Hold! hold! I swear. Your ranks more than the enemy. Away! Olimpia. Spare thine already forfeit soul Ye Jackalls! gnaw the bones the lion leaves, A perjury for which even Hell would loathe But not even these till he permits.
thee. A Soldier (murmuring). The Lion I know thee. Might conquer for himself then.
Arnold. No,thon know'st me not; I am not Arnold (cuts him down). Mutineer! Of these men, thoughRebel in Hell-you shall obey on earth! Olimpia. I judge thee by thy mates ;
[The Soldiers assault Arnold. It is for God to judge thee as thou art. Come on! I'm glad on't! I will show you, I see thee purple with the blood of Roine ; slaves,
Take mine, 'tis all thou e'er shalt have of me! How you should be commanded, and who And here, upon the marble of this temple,
Where the baptismal font baptised me God's, First o'er the wall you were as shy to scale, I offer him a blood less holy Until I waved my banners from its height, But not less pure (pare as left me then, As you are bold within it.
A redeemed infant) than the holy water (Arnold mows doun the foremost; the The Saints have sanctified ! rest throw down thcir arms.
(Olimpia waves her hand to Arnold with Soldiers. Mercy! mercy!
disdain, and dashes herself on the Arnold. Then learn to grant it. Have
pavement from the Altar. I taught you who
Arnold. Eternal God! Led you o'er Rome's eternal battlements ? I feel thee now! Help! Help! She's gone. Soldiers. We saw it, and we know it; Cæsar (approaches). I am here. yet forgive
Arnold. Thou! but oh, save her! A moment's error in the heat of conquest Cæsar (assisting him to raise Olimpia). The conquest which you led to.
She bath done it well; Arnold. Get
The leap was serious.
Cæsar. If In the Colonna-palace.
She be so, I have nought to do with that: Olimpia (aside). In my father's house! The resurrection is beyond me. Arnold (to the Soldiers). Leave your Arnold. Slave!
arms; ye have no further need Cæsar. Aye, slave or master, 'tis all Of such : the City's rendered. And mark well
one: methinks You keep your hands clean, or I'll find Good words, however, are as well at times. out a stream,
Arnold. Words!-Canst thou aid her! As red as Tiber now runs, for your baptism. Cæsar. I will try. A sprinkling Soldiers (deposing their arms and de- of that same holy water may be useful. parting). We obey!
(He brings some in his helmet from the font. Arnold (to Olimpia). Lady! you are safe. Arnold. Tis mixed with blood. Olimpia. I should be so,
Cæsar. There is no cleaner now in Rome. Had I a knife even; but it matters not Arnold. How pale! how beautiful! how Death hath a thousand gates; and on the
Alive or dead, thou essence of all beauty, Even at the altar-foot, whence I look I love but thee! down
Cæsar. Even so Achilles loved
heart, and yet it was no soft one. Arnold. I wish to merit his forgiveness, Arnold. She breathes ! But no, 'twas and
nothing, or the last Thine own, although I have not injured Faint flutter life disputes with death. thee.
Cæsar. She breathes. Olimpia. No! Thou hast only sacked my Arnold. Thou sayst it? Then 'tis truth. native land,
Cæsar. You do me rightNo injury!-and made my father's house The Devil speaks truth much oftener than A den of ihieves- No injury!- this templo he's deemed : Slippery with Roman and holy gore. He hath an ignorant audience.
Arnold (without attending to kim). Yes! Arnold. Now onward, onward ! Gently! her heart beats.
(Freunt, bearing Olimpio.--The Scene las ! that the first beat of the only heart
closes. ever wish'd to beat with mine, should
vibrato o an assassin's pulse.
ACT IIL Cæsar. A sage reflexion, ut somewhat late i’ the day. Where shall SCENE I.-A Castle in the Apennincs, surwe bear her!
rounded by a wild but smiling country. say she lives.
Chorus of Peasants singing before the Arnold. And will she live?
Gates. Cæsar. As much
Chorus. dust can. Arnold. Then she is dead!
The wars are over,
The spring is come;
Let their hearts have an echo in overy voice!
The first-born child of the early sun; Arnold. Softly!
With us she is but a winter's flower, Casar. As softly as they bear the dead, The snow on the hills cannot blast her Perhaps because they cannot feel the jolting.
bower, Arnold. But doth she live indeed ? And she lifts up her dewy eye of blue Casar. Nay, never fear!
To the youngest sky of the self-same hue. But if you rue it after, blame not me. Arnold. Let her but live!
And when the spring comes with her host Casar. The spirit of her life
Of flowers, that flower beloved the most Is yet within her breast, and may revive. Shrinks from the crowd that may confuse Count! Count! I am your servant in all Her heavenly odour and virgin hues.
things, And this is a new office:- 'tis not oft Pluck the others, but still remember I am employed in such; but you perceive Their Herald out of dim December How stanch a friend is what you call a fiend. The morning-star of all the flowers, On earth you have often only fiends for The pledge of day-light's lengthen'd hours ; friends;
Nor, 'midst the roses, e'er forget
Cæsar (singing). The wars are all over, Casar. I. But fear not. I'll not be
Our swords are all idle,
The steed bites the bridle, Arnold. Rival!
The casque's on the wall.
There's rest for the rover;
But his armour is rusty,
And the veteran grows crusty, laid
As he yawns in the hall. Aside intrigue: 'tis rarely worth the trouble He drinks—but what's drinking? Of gaining, or—what is more difficult- A mere pause from thinking! Getting rid of your prize again; for there's No bugle awakes him with life-and-deathThe rub! at least to mortals.
call. Arnold. Prithee, peace!
But the hound bayeth loudly,
And the falcon longs proudly
To spring from her hood : Arnold. To the palace
On the wrist of the noble
She sits like a crest,
And the air is in trouble
With birds from their nest.
Cæsar. Oh! Shadow of glory!
Dim image of war!
Her hero no star,
Of empire and chase,
And quake for their race.
In the pride of his might, Then 'twas sport for the strong
To embrace him in fight; To go forth, with a pine
For a spear, 'gainst the Mammoth, Or strike through the ravino
At the foaming Bchemoth,
As towers in our time,
The spring is conne;
Have sought their home;
[Excunt the Peasantry, singing.
THE LAMENT OF TASSO.
Long years!—It tries the thrilling frame But this is o'er my pleasint task is done.
My long-sustaining friend of many years! And eagle-spirit of a Child of song If I do blot thy final page with tears, Long years of outrage, calumny and wrong; Know that my sorrows have wrung from Impnted madness, prison'd solitude,
me none. And the mind's canker in its savage mood, Butthon,my young creation! my soul's child! When the impatient thirst of light and air Which ever playing round me came and Parches the heart, and the abhorred grate,
smiled, Marring the sunbeams with its hideous And woo'd me from myself with thy sweet shade,
sight, Works through the throbbing eyeball to Thou too art gone—and so is my delight:
And therefore do I weep and inly bleed With a hot sense of heaviness and pain, With this last bruise upon a broken reed And bare, at once, Captivity display'd Thou too art ended-what is left me now! Stands scoffing through the never-open'd For I have anguish yet to bear, and how 1
I know not that, but in the innate force Which nothing through its bars admits, of my own spirit shall be found resourre.
I have not sunk, for I had no remorse, And tasteless food, which I have eat alone Nor cause for such: they call'd me madTill its unsocial bitterness is gone,
and why? And I can banquet like a beast of prey,
Oh Leonora! wilt not thou reply? Sullen and lonely, couching in the cave I was indeed delirious in my heart Which is my lair, and - it may be my grave: To lift my love so lofty as thou art; All this hath somewhat worn me, and may But still my frenzy was not of the mind ;
I knew my fault, and feel my punishment Bat must be borne. I stoop not to despair; Not less because I suffer it unbent. For I have battled with mine agony,
That thou wert beautiful, and I not blind, And made me wings wherewith to overfly Hath been the sin which shuts me from The narrow circus of my dungeon-wall,
mankind; And freed the Holy Sepulchre from thrall; But let them go, or torture as they will, And revell d among men and things divine, My heart can multiply thine image still; And pour'd my spirit over Palestine, Successful love may sate itself away, In honour of the sacred war for him, The wretched are the faithful; 'tis their fate The God who was on earth and is in heaven, To have all feeling save the one decay, For he hath strengthend me in heart and And every passion into one dilate,
As rapid rivers into ocean pour; That through this sufferance I might be But ours is fathomless, and hath no shore
forgiven, I have employ'd my penance to record How Salem's shrine was won, and how Above me, hark! the long and maniar cry
of minds and bodies in captivity.