Arnold. What's here? whose broad brow and whose curly beard And manly aspect look like Hercules, Than the sad Purger of the infernal world, 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. [The Shade of Anthony disappears 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 Stranger. Let the earth speak, | If there be atoms of him left, or even Of Greece in peace, her thunderbolt in war- 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 choice. The god-like son of the Sea- 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 I am impatient. I love thee most in dwarfs. A mortal of 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 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, Stranger. And what shall I wear? Who can command all forms, will choose the highest, By heart and soul,and make itself the equal_Haste! haste! Something superior even to that which was And oft, like Timour the lame Tartar, win The poet's God, clothed in such limbs as are Formed as thou art? I may dismiss the mould 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 But I have worn it long enough of late, 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! [The Stranger takes some earth and then addresses the Phantom of Achilles. Beautiful Shadow Of Thetis's boy! Who sleeps in the meadow As the Being who made him, Of blood take the guise! As thou wavest in air! And drank the best dew! Which clay can compound! On earth to be found! Be mingled and stirred, This earth's animation! 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, If not ungrateful. Whatsoe'er it be, 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 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 Stranger (to the late form of Arnold, er- 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; Save the fabled salamander, Burning in a quenchless lot: 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 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? Your betters keep worse company. Stranger. Oh! you wax proud, I 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 Shall we proceed? Strangers. Like gallants,on good coursers. What ho! my chargers! Never yet were better, Since Phaeton was upset into the Po. Enter two Pages, with four coal-black Horses. Arnold. A noble sight! A nobler breed. Match me in Barbary, Arnold. The mighty stream, which 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 I trust. 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, And will not such a voyage be sweet? From the Alps to the Caucasus, ride we, For we'll leave them behind in the glance [They mount their horses, and dis- |Of fixed Necessity: against her edict Arnold. And when it prospers— Cæsar. The Bourbon hath given orders And by the dawn there will be work. And shall the City yield? I see the giant- 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. Has been o'er carcasses: mine eyes are full Casar. Then wipe them, and see clearly. Thou art a conqueror; the chosen knight Arnold. How old? What! are there Cæsar. To you. You'll find there are By their rich harvests,new disease,and gold; new one, Because you know no better than the dull Cæsar. Do! They will deceive you And that is better than the bitter truth. Cæsar. Your obedient, humble servant. lured me on, Through scenes of blood and lust, till 1 Cæsar. And where would'st thou be? To the winding worm, all life is motion; In life commotion is the extremest point its way, Of something which has made it live and dic. That sky whence Christ ascended from the cross, Which his blood made a badge of glory and Cæsar. 'Tis there, and shall be. Cæsar. The Crucifix Above, and many altar-shrines below. Arnold. And those scarce mortal arches, Made even the forest pay its tribute of Casar. The city or the amphitheatre? Arnold. To-morrow sounds the assault Cæsar. Which, if it end with and perhaps More beautifully, than he did on Rome |