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Arnold. What's here? whose broad brow and whose curly beard

And manly aspect look like Hercules,
Save that his jocund eye hath more of
Bacchus

Than the sad Purger of the infernal world,
Leaning dejected on his club of conquest,
As if he knew the worthlessness of those
For whom he had fought.

Stranger. It was the man who lost The ancient world for love.

Arnold. I cannot blame him, Since I have risked my soul because I find not

That which he exchanged the earth for. Stranger. Since so far

You seem congenial, will you wear his features?

Arnold. No. As you leave me choice, I am difficult,

If but to see the heroes I should ne'er Have seen else on this side of the dim shore

Whence they float back before us.
Stranger. Hence, Triumvir!
Thy Cleopatra 's waiting.

[The Shade of Anthony disappears
another rises.

Arnold. Who is this? Who truly looketh like a demigod, Blooming and bright, with golden hair, and stature,

If not more high than mortal, yet immortal In all that nameless bearing of his limbs, Which he wears as the Sun his rays-a

something

Which shines from him, and yet is but the
flashing
Emanation of a thing more glorious still.
Was he e'er human only?

Stranger. Let the earth speak,

| If there be atoms of him left, or even
Of the more solid gold that formed his urn.
Arnold. Who was this Glory of mankind?
Stranger. The shame

Of Greece in peace, her thunderbolt in war-
Demetrius the Macedonian and
Taker of cities.

Arnold. Yet one shadow more.

Stranger (addressing the Shadow). Get thee to Lamia's lap!

[The Shade of Demetrius Polioreetes vanishes: another rises,

Stranger. I'll fit you still,

Fear not, my Hunchback. If the shadows of That which existed please not your nice

taste,

I'll animate the ideal marble, till
Your soul be reconciled to her new garment.
Arnold. Content! I will fix here.
Stranger. I must commend

Your choice. The god-like son of the Sea-
Goddess,

The unshorn boy of Peleus, with his locks As beautiful and clear as the amber-waves Of rich Pactolus rolled o'er sands of gold, Softened by intervening crystal, and Rippled like flowing waters by the wind, All vowed to Sperchius as they were-behold them!

And him—as he stood by Polixena, With sanctioned and with softened love, before

The altar, gazing on his Trojan bride, With some remorse within for Hector slain And Priam weeping, mingled with deep passion

For the sweet downcast virgin, whose young hand

Trembled in his who slew her brother. Sa He stood i'the temple! Look upon him as Greece look'd her last upon her best, the instant

Ere Paris' arrow flew.

Arnold. I gaze upon him

As if I were his soul, whose form shall soon Envelop mine.

Stranger. You have done well. The greatest

Deformity should only barter with
The extremest beauty, if the proverb's true
Of mortals, that extremes meet.
Arnold. Come! Be quick!

I am impatient.

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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 baptise
In Styx.

Arnold. Then let it be as thou deem'st best. Stranger. Thou shalt be beauteous as the thing thou seest,

And strong as what it was, and—

Arnold. I ask not

For valour, since deformity is daring. It is its essence to o'ertake mankind

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 made me something—as it has made heroes

Of the same mould as mine. You lately

saw me

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

Stranger: Decide between What you have been, or will be. Arnold. I have done so.

You have open'd brighter prospects to my

eyes,

And sweeter to my heart. As I am now,
I might be feared, admired, respected, loved
Of all save those next to me, of whom I
Would be beloved. As thou showest me
A choice of forms, I take the one I view.

Stranger. And what shall I wear?
Arnold. Surely he

Who can command all forms, will choose the highest,

By heart and soul,and make itself the equal_Haste! haste!
Aye, the superior of the rest. There is
A spur in its halt movements, to become
All that the others cannot, 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,

Something superior even to that which was
Pelides now before us. Perhaps his
Who slew him, that of Paris: or-still
higher-

And oft, like Timour the lame Tartar, win
them.
Stranger. Well spoken! And thou doubt-Themselves a Poetry.
less wilt remain

The poet's God, clothed in such limbs as are

Formed as thou art? I may dismiss the mould
Of shadow, which must turn to flesh, to

encase

This daring soul,which could achieve no less Without it?

Arnold. Had no Power presented me The possibility of change, I would Have done the best which Spirit may, to make Its 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 molehill to

The eyes of happier man. I would have looked

On beauty in that sex which is the type Of all we know or dream of beautiful Beyond the world they brighten with a sigh Not 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 spurned me from

her.

The she-bear licks her cubs into a sort Of shape;-my dan beheld my shape was hopeless.

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

Arnold. Your aspect is Dusky, but not uncomely. Stranger. 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 fear:

But I have worn it long enough of late,
And now I'll take your figure.
Arnold. Mine!

Stranger. Yes. You

Shall change with Thetis' son, and I with Bertha

Your mother's offspring. People have their tastes;

You have yours-I mine.

Arnold. Despatch! despatch!
Stranger. Even so.

[The Stranger takes some earth and
moulds it along the turf. And

then addresses the Phantom of Achilles.

Beautiful Shadow

Of Thetis's boy!

Who sleeps in the meadow
Whose grass grows o'er Troy,
From the red earth, like Adam,
Thy likeness I shape,

As the Being who made him,
Whose actions I ape.
Thou clay, be all glowing,
Till the rose in his cheek
Be as fair as, when blowing,
It wears its first streak!
Ye violets, I scatter,
Now turn into eyes!
And thou sunshiny water,

Of blood take the guise!
Let these hyacinth boughs
Be his long, flowing hair,
And wave o'er his brows,

As thou wavest in air!
Let his heart be this marble
I tear from the rock!
But his voice as the warble
Of birds on yon oak!
Let his flesh be the purest
Of mould, in which grew
The lily-root surest,

And drank the best dew!
Let his limbs be the lightest

Which clay can compound!
And his aspect the brightest

On earth to be found!
Elements, near me,

Be mingled and stirred,
Know me, and hear me,
And leap to my word!
Sunbeams, awaken

This earth's animation!
'Tis done! He hath taken
His stand in Creation!
[Arnold falls senseless; his soul
passes into the shape of Achilles,
which rises from the ground;
while the Phantom has disappear-
ed, part by part, as the figure
was formed from the earth.

Arnold (in his new form). I love, and I shall be beloved! Oh life!

At last I feel thee! Glorious spirit!

Stranger. Stop! What shall become of your abandoned garment,

Your hump, and lump, and clod of ugliness, Which late you wore, or were?

Arnold. Who cares! Let wolves And vultures take it, if they will. Stranger. And if

They do, and are not scared by it, you'll say It must be peace-time, and no better fare Abroad i' the fields.

Arnold. Let us but leave it there, No matter what becomes on't.

Stranger. That's ungracious,

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If not ungrateful. Whatsoe'er it be,
It hath sustained your soul full many a day.
Arnold. Aye, as the dunghill may con-

ceal a gem

Which is now set in gold,as jewels should be. Stranger. But if I give another form, it

must be

By fair exchange, not robbery. For they

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Arnold. You!

Stranger. I said it ere

You inhabited your present dome of beauty. Arnold. True. I forget all things the new joy

Of this immortal change.

Stranger. In a few moments

I will be as you were, and you shall see
Yourself for ever by you, as your shadow.
Arnold. I would be spared this.
Stranger. But it cannot be.
What! shrink already, being what you are,
From seeing what you were?
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.

Fire! without which nought can live;
Fire! but in which nought can live,

Save the fabled salamander,
Or immortal souls which wander,
Praying what doth not forgive,
Howling for a drop of water,

Burning in a quenchless lot:
Fire! the only element

Where nor fish, beast, bird, nor worm, Save the worm which dieth not, Can preserve a moment's form, But must with thyself be blent: Fire! man's safeguard and his slaughter: Fire! Creation's first-born daughter,

And Destruction's threatened son, When Heaven with the world hath done: Fire! assist me to renew Life in what lies in my view

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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?

Stranger To the world of shadows. But let us thread the present. Whither

wilt thou?

Arnold. Must thou be my companion?
Stranger. Wherefore not?

Your betters keep worse company.
Arnold. My betters!

Stranger. Oh! you wax proud, I
of your new form:

see,

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

You improve apace:-two changes in an instant,

And you are old in the world's ways already. But bear with me: indeed you'll find me

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Shall we proceed?

Strangers. Like gallants,on good coursers. What ho! my chargers! Never yet were better,

Since Phaeton was upset into the Po.
Our Pages too!

Enter two Pages, with four coal-black Horses.

Arnold. A noble sight!
Stranger. And of

A nobler breed. Match me in Barbary,
Or your Kochlany race of Araby,
With these!

Arnold. The mighty stream, which
volumes high

From their proud nostrils,burns the very air: And sparks of flame, like dancing fire-flies, wheel

Around their manes, as common insects

swarm

Round common steeds towards sunset.

Stranger. Mount, my Lord;

They and I are your servitors.

names?

Stranger. You shall baptise them. Arnold. What! in holy water? Stranger. Why not! The deeper sinner, better saint.

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

Stranger. True; the Devil's always ugly; and your beauty

Is never diabolical.

Arnold. I'll call him

Who bears the golden horn, and wears such bright

And blooming aspect, Huon; for he looks Like to the lovely boy lost in the forest 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, He shall be Memnon, from the Ethiop king Whose statue turns a harper once a day. And you?

Stranger. I have ten thousand names, and twice

As many attributes; but as I wear
A human shape, will take a human name.
Arnold. More human than the shape
(though it was mine once)

I trust.

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Cæsar thou shalt be. For myself, my name Shall be plain Arnold still.

Cæsar. We'll add a title"Count Arnold:" it hath no ungracious sound,

And will look well upon a billet-doux.

Arnold. Or in an order for a battle-field. Cæsar (sings). To horse! to horse! my coal-black steed

Paws the ground and snuffs the air; There's not a foal of Arab's breed

More knows whom he must bear! On the hill he will not tire, Swifter as it waxes higher; In the marsh he will not slacken, On the plain be overtaken; In the wave he will not sink, Nor pause at the brook's side to drink; In the race he will not pant,

In the combat he'll not faint;

On the stones he will not stumble,

Time nor toil shall make him humble;

In the stall he will not stiffen,
But be winged as a Griffin,
Only flying with his feet:

And will not such a voyage be sweet?
Merrily! merrily! never unsound,
Shall our bonny black horses skim over
the ground!

From the Alps to the Caucasus, ride we,
or fly!

For we'll leave them behind in the glance
of an eye.

[They mount their horses, and dis-
appear.

|Of fixed Necessity: against her edict
Rebellion prospers not.

Arnold. And when it prospers—
Cæsar. 'Tis no rebellion.
Arnold. Will it prosper now?

Cæsar. The Bourbon hath given orders
for the assault,

And by the dawn there will be work.
Arnold. Alas!

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.

ARNOLD and CESAR.

Cæsar. You are well entered now.
Arnold. Aye; but my path

Has been o'er carcasses: mine eyes are full
Of blood.

Casar. Then wipe them, and see clearly.
Why!

Thou art a conqueror; the chosen knight
And free companion of the gallant Bourbon,
Late Constable of France; and now to be
Lord of the city which hath been Earth's lord
And its Emperors', and-changing sex,
Not sceptre, an hermaphrodite of empire-
Lady of the Old World.

Arnold. How old? What! are there
New worlds?

Cæsar. To you. You'll find there are
such shortly,

By their rich harvests,new disease,and gold;
From one half of the world named a whole

new one,

Because you know no better than the dull
And dubious notice of your eyes and ears.
Arnold. I'll trust them.

Cæsar. Do! They will deceive you
sweetly,

And that is better than the bitter truth.
Arnold. Dog!
Cæsar. Man!
Arnold. Devil!

Cæsar. Your obedient, humble servant.
Arnold. Say Master rather. Thou hast

lured me on,

Through scenes of blood and lust, till 1
am here.

Cæsar. And where would'st thou be?
Arnold. Oh, at peace-in peace!
Cæsar. And where is that which is so?
From the star

To the winding worm, all life is motion;
and

In life commotion is the extremest point
Of life. The planet wheels till it becomes
A comet, and destroying as it sweeps
The stars, goes out. The poor worm winds

its way,
Living upon the death of other things,
But still, like them, must live and die,
the subject

Of something which has made it live and dic.
You must obey what all obey, the rule

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That sky whence Christ ascended from the

cross,

Which his blood made a badge of glory and
Of joy (as once of torture unto him,
God and God's Son, man's sole and only
refuge).

Cæsar. 'Tis there, and shall be.
Arnold. What?

Cæsar. The Crucifix

Above, and many altar-shrines below.
Also some culverins upon the walls,
And harquebusses, and what not, besides
The men who are to kindle them to death
Of other men.

Arnold. And those scarce mortal arches,
Pile above pile of everlasting wall,
The theatre where emperors and their subjects
(Those subjects Romans) stood a gaze upon
The battles of the monarchs of the wild
And wood, the lion and his tusky rebels
Of the then untamed desert, brought to joust
In the arena; (as right well they might,
When they had left no human foe uncon-
quered ;)

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 it fall?

Casar. The city or the amphitheatre?
The church,or one,or all? for you confound
Both them and me.

Arnold. To-morrow sounds the assault
With the first cock-crow.

Cæsar. Which, if it end with
The evening's first nightingale, will be
Something new in the annals of great sieges:
For men must have their prey after long toil.
Arnold. The Sun goes down as calmly,

and perhaps

More beautifully, than he did on Rome
On the day Remus leapt her wall.
Cæsar. I saw him.

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