Invest thee with his form?

Which shines from him, and yet is but the Aashing

Emanation of a thing more glorious still.
Would that I had

Was he c'er human only ?
Been born with it! But since I may choose further,

STRANGER. I will look further.

Let the earth speak, [The Shade of Alcibiades disappears. If there be atoms of him left, or even STRANGER.

Of the more solid gold that form’d his urn.
Lo! Behoid again!


Who was this glory of mankind ?
What! that low, swarthy, short-nosed, round-eyed satyr,
With the wide nostrils and Silenus' aspect,

The shame The splay feet and low stature! I had better Of Greece in peace, her thunderbolt in warRemain that which I am.

Demetrius the Macedonian, and

Taker of cities.
And yet he was
The earth's perfection of all mental beauty,

Yet one shadow more.
And personification of all virtue.

STRANGER (addressing the Shador). But you reject him?

Get thee to Lamia's lap!

[The Shade of Demetrius Poliorcetes vanishes If his form could bring me

another rises.
That which redeem'd it—no.

I'll fit you still,
I have no power

Fear not, my hunchback. If the shadow of
To promise that ; but you may try, and find it

That which existed please not your nice taste, Easier in such a form, or in your own.

I'll animate the ideal marble, till

Your soul be reconciled to her new garment.
No. I was not born for philosophy.
Though I have that about me which has need on 't.

Content ! I will fix here.
Let him feet on.


I must commend Be air, thou hemlock-drinker! Your choice. The god-like son of the sea-goddess, (The Shadow of Socrates disappears : another rises. The unshorn boy of Peleus, with his locks

As beautiful and clear as the amber waves What's here? whose broad brow and whose curly beard of rich Pactolus rolld o'er sands of gold, And manly aspect look like Hercules,

Softened by intervening crystal, and Save that his jocund eye hath more of Bacchus Rippled like flowing waters by the wind, Than the sad purger of the infernal world,

All vow'd to Sperchius as they were-behold thern ! Leaning dejected on his club of conquest,

And him—as he stood by Polyxena, As if he knew the worthlessness of those

With sanction'd and with soften'd love, before For whom he had fought.

The altar, gazing on his Trojan bride,

With some remorse within for Hector slain It was the man who lost And Priam weeping, mingled with deep passion The ancient world for love.

For the sweet downcast virgin, whose young hand

Trembled in his who slew her brother. So

I cannot blame him, He stood i' the temple! Look upon him as Since I have risk'd my soul, because I find not Greece look'd her last upon her best, the instant That which he exchanged the earth for.

Ere Paris' arrow flew.

Since so far

I gaze upon him as
You seem congenial, will you wear his features ? As if I were his soul, whose form shall soon

Envelop mine. No. As you leave me choice, I am difficult,

STRANGER. If but to see the heroes I should ne'er

You have done well. The greatest Have seen else on this side of the dim shore

Deformity should only barter with
Whence they float back before us.

The extremest beauty, if the proverb's true

Of mortals, that extremes meet.

Hence, Triumvir ! 1 hy Cleopatra 's waiting.

Come ! Be quit!

I [The Shade of Antony disappears : another rises.

am impatient.

As a youthful beauty,
Who is this?

Before her glass. You both see what is not,
Who truly looketh like a demigod,

But dream it is what must be. Blooming and bright, with golden hair, and stature,

ARNOLD. If not more high than mortal, yet immortal

Must I wait? In all that nameless bearing of his limbs, Which he wears as the sun his rays—a something No; that were pity. But a word or two:









His stature is twelve cubits: would you so far
Outstep these times, and be a Titan? Or
(To talk canonically) wax a son
Of Anak?


Why not?


Glorious ambition ! I love thee most in dwarfs ! A mortal of Philistine stature would have gladly pared His own Goliath down to a slight David; But thou, my manikin, wouldst soar a show Rather than hero. Thou shalt be indulged, If such be thy desire; and yet, by being A little less removed from present men In figure, thou canst sway them more; for all Would rise against thee now, as if to hunt A new-found mammoth; and their cursed engines, Their culverins and so forth, would find way Through our friend's armour there, with greater ease Than the adulterer's arrow through his heel Which Thetis had forgotten to baptize

Had she exposed me, like the Spartan, ere
I knew the passionate part of life, I had

Been a clod of the valley,-happier nothing Than what I am. But even thus, the lowest, Ugliest, and meanest of mankind, what courage And perseverance could have done, perchance,

Had inade me something—as it has made heroes or the same mould as mine. You lately saw me

Master of my own life, anıl quick to quit it; And he who is so is the niaster of Whatever dreads to die.


Decide between What you have been, or will be.

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In Styx.


Then let it be as thou deem'st best.

Thou shalt be beauteous as the thing thou see'st,
And strong as what it was,


I ask not For valour, since deformity is aaring. It is its essence to o’ertake mankind By heart and soul, and make itself the equalAy, the superior of the rest. There is A spur in its halt movements, to become Al that the others cannoi, in such things As still are free to both, to compensate For stepdame Nature's avarice at first. They woo with fearless deeds the smiles of fortune, And oft, like Timour the lame Tartar, wiu them.

Surely he
Who can command all forms, will choose the highest,
Something superior even 'o that which was
Pelides now before us. Perhaps his

Who slew him, that of Paris :-or-still higher-
The poet's god, clothed in such limbs as are
Themselves a poetry.


Less will content me; For I too love a change.


Your aspect is Dusky, but not uncomely.


If I chose,
I might be whiter; but I have a penchant
For black-it is so honest, and besides
Can neither blush with shame nor pale with fcar
But I have worn it long enough of late,
And now I'll take your figure.



Yes. You Shall change with Thetis' son, and I with Bertha Your mother's ofispring. People have their tastes You have yours-1 mine.

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Had no power presented me The possibility of change, I would Have done the best which spirit may, to make Jis way, with all deformity's dull, deadly, Discouraging weight upon me, like a mountain, In feeling, on my heart as on my shouldersA hateful and unsightly mole-hill to The eyes of happier man. I would have look'd On beauty in that sex which is the type Of all we know or dream of beautiful Beyond the world they brighten, with a sighNoi of love, but despair; nor sought to win, Though to a heart all love, what could not love me In turn, because of this vile crooked clog, Which makes me lonely. Nay, I could have borne It all, had not my mother spurn’d me from her. The she-bear licks her cubs into a sort Ol' shape :-my dam beheld my shape was hopeless.

Despatch! despatch!

Even so. (The Stranger takes soma earth and moulele

it along the turf; and then addresses 'ro

Phantom of Achilles.
Beautiful shadow

Of Thetis's boy!
Who sleeps in the meadow

Whose grass grows o'er Trov:




From the red earth, like Adam,'

It hath sustain'd your soul full many a day.
Thy likeness I shape,
As the Being who made him,

Ay, as the dunghill may conceal a gem
Whose actions I ape.

Which is now set in gold, as jewels should be.
Thou clay, be all glowing,

Till the rose in his cheek

But if I give another form, it must be
Be as fair as, when blowing,

By fair exchange, not robbery. For they
It wears its first streak!

Who make men without women's aid, have long
Ye violets, I scatter,

Had patents for the same, and do not love
Now turn into eyes!

Your interlopers. The devil may take men,
And thou sunshiny water,

Not make them,—though he reap the benefit
Of blood take the guise !

of the original workmanship :-and therefore
Let these hyacinth boughs

Some one must be found to assume the shape
Be his long, flowing hair,

You have quitted.
And wave o'er his brows,

As thou wavest in air !

Who would do so?
Let his heart be this marble

I tear from the rock !

That I know noi,
But his voice as the warble

And therefore I must.
Of birds on yon oak!

Let his flesh be the purest

of mould, in which grew
The lily-root surest,

I said it, ere
And drank the best dew!

You inhabited your present dome of beauty.
Let his limbs be the lightest

Which clay can compound !

True. I forget all things in the new joy
And his aspect the brightest

of this immortal change.
On earth to be found !
Elements, near me,

In a few moments
Be mingled and stirr’d,

I will be as you were, and you shall see
Know me and hear me,

Yourself for ever by you, as your shadow.
And leap to my word!

Sunbeams, awaken

I would be spared this.
This earth's animation !
'Tis done! He hath taken

But it cannot be.
His stand in creation !

What! shrink already, being what you are,
(Arnold falls senseless ; his soul passes into From seeing what you were ?
the shape of Achilles, which rises from the

ground, while the phantom has disappeared,

Do as thou wilt. part by part

, as the figure was formed from STRANGER (to the late form of ARNOLD, extended on the earth.

the earth). ARNOLD (in his new form).

Clay! not dead, but soulless! I love, and I shall be beloved ! Oh life!

Though no man would choose thee, At last I feel thee! Glorious spirit !

An immortal no less

Deigns not to refuse thee.

Clay thou art: and unto spirit
What shall become of your abandon'd garment,

All clay is of equal merit. Your hump, and lump, and clod of ugliness,

Fire! without which nought can live;
Which late you wore, or were ?

Fire! but in which nought can live,
Who cares? Let wolves

Save the fabled salamander,
And vultures take it, if they will.

Or immortal souls which wander,

Praying what doth not forgive,
And if

Howling for a drop of water,
They do, and are not scared by it, you 'll say

Burning in a quenchless lot : It must be peace time, and no better fare

Fire! the only element
Abroad i' the fields.

Where nor fish, beast, bird, nor worm.

Save the worm which dieth not,
Let us but leave it there,

Can preserve a moment's form,
No matter what becomes on 't.

But must with thyself be blent:

Fire ! man's safeguard and his slaughter
That's ungracious,

Fire ! creation's first-born daughter,
If not ungratetul. Whatsoe'er it be,

And destruction's threaten's son,

When Heaven with the world hath don

Fire! assist me to renew 1 Adam means “red earth," from which the first man wan Torined

Life in what lies in my view





Stiff and cold!

His resurrection rests with me a:id you!

And of
One little marshy spark of flame-

A nobler breed. Match me in Barbary,
And he again shall seem the same;

Or your Kochlani race of Araby,
But I his spirit's place shall hold !

With these!
(An ignis-fatuus flits through the wood, and rests
on the brow of the body. The Stranger disup-

The mighty stream, which volumes high pears: the body rises.

From their proud nostrils, burns the very air ;
ARNOLD (in his new form).

And sparks of flame, like dancing fire-flies, wheel Oh! horrible !

Around their manes, as common insects swarm
STRANGER (in Arnold's late shape). Round common steeds towards sunset.
What! tremblest thou?

Mount, my lord,
Not so

They and I are your servitors.
I merely shudder. Where is fled the shape
Thou lately worest!

And these,

Our dark-eyed pages—what may be their names ? To the world of shadows.

STRANGER. But let us thread the present. Whither wilt thou ? You shall baptize them.












Must thou be my companion ?

Whal! in holy water ?

Wherefore not ? Why not? The deeper sinner, better saint.
Your betters keep worse company.

They are beautiful, and cannot, sure, be demons?

My betters!

True; the devil's always ugly; and your beauty Oh! you wax proud, I see, of your new form:

Is never diabolical.

ARNOLD. I'm glad of that. Ungrateful too! That's well;

I'll call hirn You improve apace :-(wo changes in an instant, And you are are old in the world's ways already.

Who bears the golden horn, and wears such bright But bear with me: indeed you 'll find me useful

And blooming aspect, Huon; for he looks Upon your pilgriinage. But come, pronounce

Like to the lovely boy lost in the forest,
Where shall we now be errant?

And never found till now. And for the other
And darker, and more thoughtful, who smiles not,

But looks as serious though serene as night,
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. lis working.

An' you?
That's to say, where there is war

I have ten thousand names, and twice And woman in activity. Let's see !

As many attributes ; but as I wear
Spain-Italy—the new Atlantic world—
Afric with all its Moors. In very truth,

A human shape, will take a human name.

ARNOLD There is small choice: the whule race are just now

More human than the shape (though it was mine once! Tugging as usual at each others' hearts.

I trust.

I have heard great things of Rome.

Then call me Cæsar.
A goodly choice-

Why, that name
And scarce a better to be found on earth,

Belongs to empires, and has been but borne
Since Sodom was put out. The field is wide too; By the world's lords.
For now the Frank, and Hun, and Spanish scion
Of the old Vandals, are at play along

And therefore fittest for
The sunny shores of the world's gurlen.

The devil in disguise—since so you deem me,

Unless you call me pope instead.

Shall we proceed?

Well then,
Cæsar thou shalt be. For myself, my name
Like gallants on good coursers. Shall be plain Arnold still.
What ho! my chargers' Never yet were better,
Since Phacton was upset into the Po.

We'll add a title
Our pages too!

" Count Arnold :" it hath no ungracious sound, Enter two Pagrs, with four coal-black Horses. And will look well upon a billet-doux.

A noble sigh!!

Jor in an order for a battle-field.
2 p? 60















CÆSAR (sings).

CÆSAR. To horse! to horse! my coal-black steed

Your obedient, humble servant. Paws the ground and snuffs the air !

There's not a foal of Arab's breed

Say master rather. Thou hast lured me on,
More knows whom he must bear!

Through scenes of blood and lust, till I am here. On the hill he will not tire,

Swifter as it waxes higher ;

And where wouldst thou be?
In the marsh he will not slacken,
On the plain be overtaken;

Oh, at peace--in peace!
In the wave he will not sink,
Nor pause at the brook's side to drink;

And where is that which is so? From the star In the race he will not pant,

To the winding worm, all life is motion, and In the combat he 'll not faint ;

In life commotion is the extremest point On the stones he will not stumble,

Of life. The planet wheels till it becomes Time nor toil shall make him humble:

A comet, and, destroying as it sweeps In the stall he will not stiffen,

The stars, goes out. The poor worin winds its way But be winged as a griffin,

Living upon the death of other things, Only flying with his feet:

But still, like them, must live and Jie, the subject And will not such a voyage be sweet?

or something which has made it live and die. Merrily! merrily! never unsound,

You must obey what all ot.ey, tie rule
Shall our bonny black horses skim over the ground! Of fix'd necessity: against her edict
From the Alps to the Caucasus, ride we, or ty! Rebellion prospers not.
For we'll leave them behind in the glance of an eye.

(They mount their horses, and disappear.

And when it prospers

'T is no rebellion.

Will it prosper now?
A Camp before the Walls of Rome.


The Bourbon hath given orders for the assault,

And by the dawn there will be work.

You are well enter'd now.


And shall the city yield ? I see the giant
Ay; but my path

Abode of the true God, and his true saini,
Has been o'er carcasses : mine eyes are full Saint Peter, rear its dome and cross into
Of blood.

That sky whence Christ ascended from the cross,

Which his blood made a badge of glory and
Then wipe them, and see clearly. Why! Of joy (as once of torture unto him,
Thou art a conqueror; the chosen knight

God and God's son, man's sole and only refuge). And free companion of the gallant Bourbon,

CÆSAR. Late constable of France; and now to be

'Tis there, and shall be.
Lord of the city which hath been earth's lord
Ur.der its emperors, and-changing sex,

Not sceptre, a hermaphrodite of empire-
Lady of the word.

The crucifix

Above, and many altar shriries below,
How old ? What! are there Also some culverins upon the walls,
New worlds ?

And harquebusses, and what not, besides

The men who are to kindle them to death
To you. You 'll find there are such shortly, of other men.
By its rich harvests, new disease, and gold;

From one half of the world named a whole new one,

And those scarce mortal arches, Because you know no better than the dull

Pile above pile of everlasting wall, And dubious notice of your eyes and ears.

The theatre where emperors and their subjects

(Those subjects Romans) stood at gaze upon I'll trust them.

The battles of the monarchs of the wild

And wood, the lion and his lusky rebels
Do! They will deccive you sweetly,

Of the then untamed desert, brought to joust
And that is better than the bitter truth!

In the arena (as right well they mighi,

When they had left no human foc unconquer'd), Dog!

Made even the forest pay its tribute of

Life to their amphitheatre, as well

As Dacia men to die the eternal death

For a sole instant's pastime, and “Pass on

To a new gladiator !”—Must il fall?









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