Let him alone; he's brave, and ever has

Been first, with that swart face and mountain shoulder,

In field or storm, and patient in starvation;
And for his tongue, the camp is full of licence,
And the sharp stinging of a lively rogue
Is, to my mind, far preferable to
The gross, dull, heavy, gloomy execration
Of a mere famish'd, sullen, grumbling slave,
Whom nothing can convince save a full meal,
And wine, and sleep, and a few maravedis,
With which he deems him rich.

Cas.

Bourb

There's a demon

In that fierce rattlesnake, thy tongue. Wilt never Be serious?

Cas.

On the eve of battle, no;

That were not soldier-like. 'Tis for the general
To be more pensive: we adventurers
Must be more cheerful. Wherefore should we
[think?
Our tutelar deity, in a leader's shape,
Takes care of us. Keep thought aloof from hosts!
If the knaves take to thinking, you will have
To crack those walls alone.
Bourb.
You may sneer, since
'Tis lucky for you that you fight no worse for't.
Cas. I thank you for the freedom; 'tis the only
Pay I have taken in your highness' service.
Bourb. Well, sir, to-morrow you shall pay your.
Look on those towers; they hold my treasury;
But, Philibert, we'll in to council. Arnold,
We would request your presence.
Arn.

Is yours, as in the field. Bourb.

[self.

Prince my service

In both we prize it,

And yours will be a post of trust at daybreak. Cæs. And mine?

Bourb.

It would be well

Good night!

Bourb.

The world's Great capital perchance is ours to-morrow. Through every change the seven-hill'd city hath Retain'd her sway o'er nations, and the Cæsars But yielded to the Alarics, the Alarics Unto the pontiffs. Roman, Goth, or priest, Still the world's masters! Civilized, barbarian, Or saintly, still the walls of Romulus Have been the circus of an empire. Well! 'Twas their turn-now 'tis ours; and let us hope That we will fight as well. and rule much better. Cas. No doubt, the camp's the school of civic What would you make of Rome ? Bourb.

Cas. In Alaric's time? Bourb.

[rights.

That which it was.

No, slave in the first Cæsar's, Whose name you bear like other curs. Cas.

'Tis a great name for bloodhounds.

And kings!

To follow glory with the Bourbon.

Arn. [to Cæsar.] Prepare our armour for the And wait within my tent.

[assault, [Exeunt Bourbon, Arnold, Philibert, &c. Within thy tent!

Cas. [solus.] Think'st thou that I pass from thee with any pre

sence?

Or that this crooked coffer, which contain'd
Thy principle of life, is aught to me

Except a mask? And these are men, forsooth!
Heroes and chiefs, the flower of Adam's bastards!

This is the consequence of giving matter

The power of thought. It is a stubborn substance, And thinks chaotically, as it acts,

Ever relapsing into its first elements.

Well! I must play with these poor puppets: 'tis
The spirit's pastime in his idler hours.

When I grow weary of it, I have business

Amongst the stars, which these poor creatures deem
Were made for them to look at. 'Twere a jest now
To bring one down amongst them, and set fire
Unto their anthill: how the pismires then
Would scamper o'er the scalding soil, and, ceasing
From tearing down each other's nests, pipe forth
One universal orison! Ha! ha! [Exit Cæsar.

PART II.

SCENE I.-Before the walls of Rome; the Assault: the Army in motion, with ladders to scale the walls; Bourbon, with a white scarf over his armour, foremost.

Chorus of Spirits in the air.

I.

'Tis the morn, but dim and dark, Whither flies the silent lark? Whither shrinks the clouded sun? Is the day indeed begun!

Nature's eye is melancholy
O'er the city high and holy :
But without there is a din
Should arouse the saints within,
And revive the heroic ashes
Round which yellow Tiber dashes.
Oh, ye seven hills! awaken,
Ere your very base be shaken!

II.

Hearken to the steady stamp!
Mars is in their every tramp!
Not a step is out of tune,

As the tides obey the moon!

On they march, though to self-slaughter,
Regular as rolling water,

Whose high waves o'ersweep the border
Of huge moles, but keep their order,
Breaking only rank by rank.
Hearken to the armour's clank!

Look down o'er each frowning warrior,
How he glares upon the barrier:
Look on each step of each ladder,
As the stripes that streak an adder.

III.

Look upon the bristling wall,
Mann'd without an interval!
Round and round, and tier on tier,
Cannon's black mouth, shining spear,
Lit match, bell-mouth'd musquetoon,
Gaping to be murderous soon;
All the warlike gear of old,
Mix'd with what we now behold,
In this strife 'twixt old and new,
Gather like a locusts' crew.
Shade of Remus! 'tis a time

Awful as thy brother's crime !

Christians war against Christ's shrine :Must its lot be like to thine?

IV.

Near-and near-and nearer still,
As the earthquake saps the hill,
First with trembling, hollow motion,
Like a scarce-awaken'd ocean,

Then with stronger shock and louder,
Till the rocks are crush'd to powder,-
Onward sweeps the rolling host!
Heroes of the immortal boast!
Mighty chiefs! eternal shadows!
First flowers of the bloody meadows
Which encompass Rome, the mother
Of a people without brother!
Will you sleep when nations' quarrels
Plough the root up of your laurels?
Ye who weep o'er Carthage burning,
Weep not-strike! for Rome is mourning."

V.

Onward sweep the varied nations! Famine long hath dealt their rations.

Scipio, the second Africanus, is said to have repeated a verse of Homer, and wept o'er the burning of Carthage. He had better have granted it a capi tulation.

To the wall, with hate and hunger,
Numerous as wolves, and stronger,
On they sweep. Oh, glorious city!
Must thou be a theme for pity?

Fight, like your first sire, cach Roman!
Alaric was a gentle foeman,

Match'd with Bourbon's black banditti!
Rouse thee, thou eternal city;

Rouse thee! Rather give the torch
With thine own hand to thy porch,

Than behold such hosts pollute
Your worst dwelling with their foot

VI.

Ah! behold yon bleeding spectre!
Ilion's children find no Hector;
Priam's offspring love their brother;
Rome's great sire forgot his mother,
When he slew his gallant twin,
With inexpiable sin.

See the giant shadow stride
O'er the ramparts high and wide!
When the first o'erleapt thy wall,
Its foundation mourn'd thy fall.
Now, though towering like a Babel,
Who to stop his steps are able?
Stalking o'er thy highest dome,
Remus claims his vengeance, Rome!

VII.

Now they reach thee in their anger:
Fire and smoke and hellish clangour
Are around thee, thou world's wonder
Death is in thy walls and under.
Now the meeting steel first clashes,
Downward then the ladder crashes,
With its iron load all gleaming,
Lying at its foot blaspheming!
Up again for every warrior
Slain, another climbs the barrier.
Thicker grows the strife: thy ditches
Europe's mingling gore enriches.
Rome! although thy wall may perish,
Such manure thy fields will cherish,
Making gay the harvest-home;
But thy hearths, alas! oh, Rome !-
Yet be Rome amidst thine anguish,
Fight as thou wast wont to vanquish !

VIII.

Yet once more, ye old Penates!

Let not your quench'd hearths be Até's! Yet again, ye shadowy heroes,

Yield not to these stranger Neros!

Though the son who slew his mother

Shed Rome's blood, he was your brother:

'Twas the Roman curb'd the Roman;

Brennus was a baffled foeman.

Yet again, ye saints and martyrs,

Rise! for yours are holier charters!
Mighty gods of temples falling,
Yet in ruin still appalling!

Mightier founders of those altars,

True and Christian,-strike the assaulters! Tyber! Tyber ! let thy torrent

Show even nature's self abhorrent

Arnold, shouldst thou see

France-But hark! hark! the assault grows warmer-Oh!

For but an hour, a minute more of life,

To die within the wall! Hence, Arnold, hence !
You lose time-they will conquer Rome without
Arn. And without thee
[thee.
Bourb.
Not so; I'll lead them still
In spirit. Cover up my dust, and breathe not
That I have ceased to breathe. Away! and be
Victorious.

Arn. But I must not leave thee thus.
Bourb. You inust-farewell-Up! up! the world
is winning.
(Bourbon dies.
Cas. [to Arnold.] Come, count, to business.
Arn.
True. I'll weep hereafter.
[Arnold covers Bourbon's body with a mantle,
mounts the ladder, crying-

The Bourbon! Bourbon! On, boys! Rome is ours!

Cas. I cannot find my hero; he is mix'd
With the heroic crowd that now pursue
The fugitives, or battle with the desperate.
What have we here? A cardinal or two
That do not seem in love with martyrdom.
How the old red-shanks scamper! Could they doff
Their hose as they have doff'd their hats, 'twould be
A blessing, as a mark the less for plunder.
But let them fly; the crimson kennels now
Will not much stain their stockings, since the mire
Is of the self-same purple hue.

Enter a Party fighting; Arnold at the head of the
Besiegers.
He comes,
Hand in hand with the mild twins-Gore and Glory.
Holla hold, count!

Arn.

Away! they must not rally. Cæs. I tell thee, be not rash; a golden bridge Is for a flying enemy. I gave thee

A form of beauty, and an

Exemption from some maladies of body,
But not of mind, which is not mine to give.
But though I gave the form of Thetis son,
I dipt thee not in Styx; and 'gainst a foe
I would not warrant thy chivalric heart
More than Pelides' heel; why, then, be cautious.
And know thyself a mortal still.

Destroy proud Anti-Christ. I am a Christian.

Cas. Yes, a disciple that would make the founder Of your belief renounce it, could he see Such proselytes. Best stint thyself to plunder. Luth. Sold. I say he is the devil Cas. Hush! keep that secret, Lest he should recognise you for his own. Luth. Sold. Why would you save him! I repeat The devil, or the devil's vicar upon earth. [he is Cas. And that's the reason: would you make a quarrel

With your best friends? You had far best be quiet; His hour is not yet come. Luth. Sold. That shall be seen! [The Lutheran Soldier rushes forward: a shot strikes him from one of the Pope's Guards, and he falls at the foot of the Allar.

Cas. [to the Lutheran.] I told you so.

[The Guards defend themselves desperately, while the Pontiff escapes, by a private passage, to the Vatican and the Castle of St. Angelo. Cas. Ha! right nobly battled! Now, priest! now, soldier! the two great professions, Together by the ears and hearts! I have not Seen a more comic pantomime since Titus Took Jewry. But the Romans had the best then; Now they must take their turn. Soldiers. Follow !

He hath escaped! [sage up, Another Sold. They have barr'd the narrow pasAnd it is clogg'd with dead even to the door.

Cæs. I am glad he hath escaped: he may thank me for't

In part. I would not have his bulls abolish'd—

'Twere worth one half our empire: his indulgences
Demand some in return,-no, no, he must not
Fall; and, besides, his now escape may furnish
A future miracle, in future proof
Of his infallibility.

[To the Spanish Soldiery, Well, cut-throats!

What do you pause for? If you make not haste,
There will not be a link of pious gold left.
And you, too, catholics! Would ye return
From such a pilgrimage without a relic?
The very Lutherans have more true devotion:
See how they strip the shrines !

Soldiers.
By holy Peter!
He speaks the truth; the heretics will bear
The best away.

Cas.
And that were shame! Go to!
Assist in their conversion. [The Soldiers disperse;
many quit the Church, others enter.
They are gone,

Cas.
And others come: so flows the wave on wave
Of what these creatures call eternity,
Deeming themselves the breakers of the ocean,
While they are but its bubbles, ignorant
That foam is their foundation.

So another!

Olimp. [embracing a massive crucifix.] Respect your God!

3d Sold.

Yes, when he shines in gold.

Girl, you but grasp your dowry. [As he advances, Olimpia, with a strong and sudden effort, casts down the crucifix; it strikes the Soldier, who falls. 3d Sold. Oh, great God! Olimp. Ah! now you recognise him. 3d Sold. My brain is crush'd! Comrades, help, ho! All's darkness! [He dies. Other Soldiers [coming up. Slay her, although she had a thousand lives: She hath kill'd our comrade. Olimp. Welcome such a death! You have no life to give, which the worst slave Would take. Great God! through thy redeeming And thy Son's Mother, now receive me as

[Son,

I would approach thee, worthy her, and him, and thee !

Sold. The cross, beneath which he is crush'd; Le. hold him

Lie there, more like a worm than man; she cast it Upon his head.

Arn.
Worthy a brave man's liking.
Ye would have honour'd her.
And thank your meanness, other God you have none
For your existence. Had you touch'd a hair
Of those dishevell'd locks, I would have thinn'd
Your ranks more than the enemy. Away!
Ye jackals! gnaw the bones the lion leaves,
But not even these till he permits.

Even so; there is a woman
Were ye such,
But get ye hence,

A Sold. [murmuring.]
Might conquer for himself then.

Arn. [cuts him down.]

The lion

Mutineer!

[no further need Arn. [to the soldiers.] Leave your arms; ye have Of such; the city's render'd. And mark well You keep your hands clean, or I'll find out a stream As red as Tiber now runs, for your baptism. Soldiers. [deposing their arms and departing.】 We obey!

I should be so

Arn. [to Olimpia.] Lady, you are safe. Olimp. Had I a knife even; but it matters notDeath hath a thousand gates; and on the marble, Even at the altar foot, whence I look down Upon destruction, shall my head be dash'd, Ere thou ascend it. God forgive thee, man! Arn. I wish to merit His forgiveness, and Thine own, although I have not injured thee. Olimp. No! Thou hast only sack'd my native land,— No injury !—and make my father's house A den of thieves!—No injury !—this templeSlippery with Roman and holy gore! No injury! And thou wouldst preserve me, To be--but that shall never be !

[She raises her eyes to heaven, folds her robe round her, and prepares to dash herself down on the side of the Altar opposite to that where Arnold stands.

Arn.

Hold! hold!