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

By heart and soul, and make itself the equal-
Ay, 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,
And oft, like Timour the lame Tartar, win them.
Stran. Well spoken! and thou doubtless wilt re-
main

Form'd as thou art. I may dismiss the mould
Of shadow, which must turn to flesh, to incase
This daring soul, which could achieve no less
Without it.

Arn. 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 shoulders-
A hateful and unsightly molehill, to

The eyes of happier men. 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 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 spurn'd me from her
The she-bear licks her cubs into a sort

Of shape;-my dam beheld my shape was hopeless.
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.

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,

Adam means 'red earth,' from which the firs Iman was formed.

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

Stran.

That's ungracious,
If not ungrateful. Whatsoe'er it be,
It hath sustain'd your soul full many a day.
Arn. Ay, as the dunghill may conceal a gem
Which is now set in gold, as jewels should be.

Stran. But if I give another form, it must be
By fair exchange, not robbery. For they
Who make men without women's aid have long
Had patents for the same, and do not love
Your interlopers. The devil may take men,
Not make them,-though he reap the benefit
Of the original workmanship:-and therefore
Some one must be found to assume the shape
You have quitted.
Arn.

Who would do so?

An immortal no less

Deigns 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 threaten'd son,

When heaven with the world hath done: Fire! assist me to renew

Life in what lies in my view

Stiff and cold!

His resurrection rests with me and you!
One little, marshy spark of flame-
And he again shall seem the same;

But I his spirit's place shall hold!

An ignis fatuus flits through the wood, and rests on the brow of the body. The Stranger disappears: the body rises.

Arn. [in his new form.] Oh! horrible! Stran. [in Arnold's late shape.] What! tremblest thou?

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 useful
Upon your pilgrimage. But come, pronounce
Where shall we now be errant?

Is thickest, that I may behold it in Its workings.

Stran.

That's to say, where there is war

And woman in activity. Let's see!
Spain-Italy-the new Atlantic world-
Afric, with all its Moors. In very truth,

There is small choice: the whole race are just now
Tugging as usual at each other's hearts.
Arn. I have heard great things of Rome.
Stran.
A goodly choice-
And scarce a better to be found on earth,
Since Sodom was put out. The field is wide too;
For now the Frank, and Hun, and Spanish scion

Our dark-eyed pages-what may be their names?
Stran. You shall baptize them.
Arn.
What in holy water?
Stran. Why not? The deeper sinner, better saint,
Arn. They are beautiful, and cannot, sure, be
demons.

Stran. True; the devil's always ugly; and your Is never diabolical. [beauty

I'll call him

Arn. 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?

Stran. I have ten thousand names, and twice As many attributes: but as I wear

A human shape, will take a human name.

Arn. More human than the shape (though it was I trust. [mine once)

Stran. Then call me Cæsar.
Arn.

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?

473

Merrily merrily! never unsound, {ground! Shall our bonny black horses skim over the From the Alps to the Caucasus, ride we, or Ay ! For we'll leave them behind in the glance of an eye. [They mount their horses, and disappear. SCENE II-A Camp before the walls of Rome. Arnold and Cæsar

Cas. You are well enter'd now. Arn. Ay; but my path Has been o'er carcases; mine eyes are full Of blood.

Cas. 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 Under its emperors, and-changing sex, Not sceptre, an hermaphrodite of empireLady of the old world.

Arn. New worlds?

How old? What! are there

Why, that name

Arn.

Cas.

Man!

Devil!

Your obedient humble servant, Arn. Say master rather. Thou hast lured me on. Through scenes of blood and lust, till I am here. Cas. And where wouldst thou be? Arn. Oh, at peace-in peace. Cas. 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 lie.
You must obey what all obey, the rule
Of fix'd necessity: against her edict
Rebellion prospers not.

Arn.

And those scarce mortal arches,
Pile above pile of everlasting wall,
The theatre where emperors and their subjects
(Those subjects Romans) stood at 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 unconquer'd);
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?

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

Arn. You! Cas.

I saw him.

Yes, sir. You forget I am or was Spirit, till I took up with your cast shape, And a worse name. I'm Cæsar and a hunchback Now. Well the first of Cæsars was a bald-head, And loved his laurels better as a wig (So history says) than as a glory. Thus The world runs on, but we'll be merry still. I saw your Romulus (simple as I am) Slay his own twin, quick-born of the same womb, Because he leapt a ditch ('twas then no wall, Whate'er it now be); and Rome's earliest cement Was brother's blood; and if its native blood Be spilt till the choked Tiber be as red As e'er 'twas yellow, it will never wear The deep hue of the ocean and the earth,

In my grammar, certes. I Was educated for a monk of all times, And once I was well versed in the forgotten Etruscan letters, and-were I so mindedCould make their hieroglyphics plainer than Your alphabet.

Arn.

And wherefore do you not? Cas. It answers better to resolve the alphabet Back into hieroglyphics. Like your statesmen, And prophet, pontiff, doctor, alchymist, Philosopher, and what not, they have built More Babels, without new dispersion, than The stammering young ones of the flood's dull ooze, Who fail'd and fled each other. Why? why, marry, Because no man could understand his neighbour. They are wiser now, and will not separate For nonsense. Nay, it is their brotherhood, Their Shibboleth, their Koran, Talmud, their Cabala; their best brick-work, wherewithal They build more

[sneerer!

Arn. [interrupting him.] Oh, thou everlasting Be silent! How the soldier's rough strain seems Soften'd by distance to a hymn-like cadence!

Listen!

I love all music.

And man, too. Let us listen:

Song of the Soldiers within. The black bands came over The Alps and their snow; With Bourbon, the rover, They pass'd the broad Po. We have beaten all foemen,

We have captured a king, We have turn'd back on no men, And so let us sing!

Here's the Bourbon for ever!

Though pennyless all,
We'll have one more endeavour

At yonder old wall.
With the Bourbon we'll gather
At day-dawn before
The gates, and together
. Or break or climb o'er
The wall: on the ladder
As mounts each firm foot,

Cas.

Our shout shall grow gladder,

And death only be mute. With the Bourbon we'll mount o'er

The walls of old Rome,

And who then shall count o'er
The spoils of each dome?
Up up with the lily!

And down with the keys!
In old Rome, the seven-hilly,
We'll revel at ease.

Her streets shall be gory,
Her Tyber all red,
And her temples so hoary

Shall clang with our tread.
Oh, the Bourbon! the Bourbon!
The Bourbon for Aye!

Of our song bear the burden!
And fire, fire away!
With Spain for the vanguard,
Our varied host comes;
And next to the Spaniard
Beat Germany's drums;
And Italy's lances

Are couch'd at their mother;
But our leader from France is,
Who warr'd with his brother.
Oh, the Bourbon! the Bourbon!
Sans country or home,
We'll follow the Bourbon,
To plunder old Rome.

An indifferent song

Slight crooked friend's as snake-like in his words
As his deeds.

Cas.
Your highness much mistakes me.
The first snake was a flatterer-I am none;
And for my deeds, I only sting when stung.
Bourb. You are brave, and that's enough for me;
and quick