CXXXII. And thou, who never yet of human wrong Had it but been from hands less near-in this Thy former realm, I call thee from the dust! Dost thou not hear my heart?-Awake! thou shalt, an must. CXXXIII. It is not that I may not have incurr'd For my ancestral faults or mine the wound I bleed withal, and, had it been conferr'd The vengeance, which shall yet be sought and found But let that pass-I sleep, but thou shalt yet awake. CXXXIV. And if my voice break forth, 'tis not that now Or seen my mind's convulsion leave it weak; CXXXV. That curse shall be Forgiveness.-Have I not— Hear me, my mother Earth! behold it, Heaven!— Have I not had to wrestle with my lot? Have I not suffer'd things to be forgiven? Have I not had my brain sear'd, my heart riven, Hopes sapp'd, name blighted, Life's life lied away? And only not to desperation driven, Because not altogether of such clay As rots into the souls of those whom I survey. CXXXVI. From mighty wrongs to petty perfidy Have I not seen what human things could do? From the loud roar of foaming calumny To the small whisper of the as paltry few, And subtler venom of the reptile crew, The Janus glance of whose significant eye, Learning to lie with silence, would seem true, And without utterance, save the shrug or sigh, Deal round to happy fools its speechless obloquy. CXXXVII. But I have lived, and have not lived in vain : My mind may lose its force, my blood its fire, And my frame perish even in conquering pain, But there is that within me which shall tire Torture and Time, and breathe when I expire; Something unearthly, which they deem not of, Like the remember'd tone of a mute lyre, Shall on their soften'd spirits sink, and move In hearts all rocky now the late remorse of love, CXXXVIII. The seal is set.-Now welcome, thou dread power! Derives from thee a sense so deep and clear CXXXIX. And here the buzz of eager nations ran, In murmur'd pity, or loud-roar'd applause, As man was slaughter'd by his fellow man. And wherefore slaughter'd? wherefore, but because Such were the bloody Circus' genial laws, And the imperial pleasure.-Wherefore not? What matters where we fall to fill the maws Of worms-on battle-plains or listed spot? Both are but theatres where the chief actors rot. CXL. I see before me the Gladiator lie: (59) He leans upon his hand-his manly brow And his droop'd head sinks gradually low- Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won. CXLI. He heard it, but he heeded not-his eyes All this rush'd with his blood-Shall he expire |