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As the Being who made him, Who make men without women's aid, have
Whose actions I ape.

Thou clay, be all glowing,

Had patents for the same, And do not love Till the rose in his cheek

Your interlopers. The devil may take men, Be as fair as, when blowing, Not make them,- though he reap the benefit It wears its first streak!

of the original workmanship:—and there Yo violets, I scatter,

fore Now turn into eyes!

Some vne must be found to assume the shape
And thou sunshiny water,

You have quitted.
Of blood take the guise !

Arnold. Who would do so?
Let these hyacinth boughs

Stranger. That I know not,
Be his long, flowing hair,

And therefore I must.
And wave o'er his brows,

Arnold. Yon !
As thou wavest in air!

Stranger. I said it ere
Let his heart be this marble You inhabited your present dome of beauty.
I tear from the rock!

Arnold. True. I forget all things in
But his voice as the warble

the new joy
of birds on yon oak !

Of this immortal change.
Let his flesh be the purest

Stranger. In a few moments
Of mould, in which grew

I will be as you were, and you shall see
The lily-root surest,

Yourself for ever by you, as your shadow.
And drank the best dew!

Arnold. I would be spared this.
Let his limbs be the lightest

Stranger. But it cannot be.
Which clay can compound! What! shrink already, being what you are,
And his aspect the brightest

From seeing what you were ?
On earth to be found !

Arnold. Do as thou wilt.
Elements, near me,

Stranger (to the late form of Arnold,
Be mingled and stirred,

tended on the earth).
Know me, and hear me,

Clay! not dead, but soul-less!
And leap to my word!

Though no man would choose thee,
Sunbeams, awaken

An immortal no less
This earth's animation !

Designs not to refuse thea
Tis done! He hath taken

Clay thou art; and unto spirit
His stand in Creation !

All clay is of equal merit.
(Arnold falls senseless; his soul

passes into the shape of Achilles, Fire! without which nought can live;
which rises from the ground; Fire! but in which nought can live,
while the Phantom has disappear- Save the fabled salamander,
ed, part by part, as the figure Or immortal souls which wander,

was formed from the earth. Praying what doth not forgive, Arnold (in his new form). I love, and I Howling for a drop of water, shall be beloved! Oh life!

Burning in a quenchlegs lot:
At last I feel thee! Glorious spirit! Fire! the only element
Stranger. Stop!

Where nor fish, beast, bird, nor worm, What shall become of your abandoned Save the worm which dieth not, garment,

Can preserve a moment's form, Your hump, and lump, and clod of ugliness, But must with thyself be blent: Which late you wore, or were ?

Fire! man's safeguard and his slaughter: Arnold. Who cares! Let wolves Fire! Creation's first-born daughter, And vultures take it, if they will.

And Destruction's threatened son, Stranger. And if

When Heaven with the world hath done: They do, and are not scared by it, you'll say Fire! assist me to renew It must be peace-time, and no better fare Life in what lies in my view Abroad i' the fields.

Stiff and cold ! Arnold. Let us but leave it there, His resurrection rests with me and you ! No matter what becomes on't.

One little, marshy spark of flameStranger. That's ungracious,

And he again shall seem the same; If not ungrateful. Whatsoe'er it be, But I his spirit's place shall hold! It hath sustained your soul full many a day.

An Ignis-fatuus flits through the Arnold. Aye, as the dunghill may con

wood, and rests on the brow of

the body. The Stranger disWhich is now set in gold, as jewels should be.

appears: the body rises. Stranger. But if I give another form, it Arnold (in his new form). Oh! horrible! must be

Stranger (in Arnold's late shape). What! By fair exehange, not robbery. For they tremblest thou ?

ceal a gem

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Arnold. Not so

Arnold. And these,
I merely shudder. Where is fled the shape Oar dark-eyed pages — what may be their
Thou lately worest ?

names ?
Stranger To the world of shadows. Stranger. You shall baptise them.
But let us thread the present. Whither Arnold. What! in holy water?
wilt thou ?

Stranger. Why not! The deeper sinner, Arnold. Must thou be my companion ?

better saint. Stranger. Wherefore not?

Arnold. They are beautiful, and cannot, Your betters keep worse company.

sure, be demons? Arnold. My betters!

Stranger. True; the Devil's always ugly;
Stranger. Oh! you wax proud , I see, and your beauty
of your new form:

19 never diabolical.
I'm glad of that. Ungrateful too! That's Arnold. I'll call him

Who bears the golden horn, and wears
You improve apace :--two changes in an such bright

And blooming, aspect, Huon; for he looks And you are old in the world's ways already. Like to the lovely boy lost in the forest But bear with me: indeed you'll find me And never found till now. And for the other useful

And darker, and more thoughtful, who Upon your pilgrimage. But come, pronounce

smiles not, Where shall we nuw be errant ?

But looks as serious though serene as night, Arnold. Where the world

He shall be Memnon, from the Ethiop king
Is thickest, that I may behold it in Whose statue turns a harper once a day.
Its workings.

And you ?
Stranger. That's to say where there is war Stranger. I have ten thousand names,
And woman in activity. Let's see!

and twice
Spain - Italy - the new Atlantic world- As many attributes; but as I wear
Afric with all its Moors. In very truth, A human shape, will take a human name.
There is small choice: the whole race are Arnold. More human than the shape
just now

(though it was mine once)
Tagging as usual at each other's hearts. I trust.
Arnold. I have heard great things of Stranger. Then call me Cæsar.

Arnold. Why, that name
Stranger. A goodly choice-

Belongs to empires, and has been but borne
And scarce a better to be found on earth, By the world's Lords.
Since Sodom was put out. The field is Stranger. And therefore fittest for
wide too;

The Devil in disguise

since 80 you For now the Frank, and Hun, and Spanish

deem me,

Unless you call me Pope instead.
of the old Vandals are at play along Arnold. Well then,
The sunny shores of the world's garden. Cæsar thou shalt be. For myself, my name
Arnold. How

Shall be plain Arnold still.
Sball we proceed ?

Cæsar. We'll add a title-
Strangers. Like gallants on good coursers. “Count Arnold :” it hath no ungracious
What ho! my chargers! Never yet were sound,

And will look well upon a billet-doux.
Since Phaeton was upset into the Po. Arnold. Or in an order for a battle-field.
Our Pages too!

Cæsar (sings). To horse! to horse! my

coal-black steed Enter two Pages, with four coal-black Horses.

Paws the ground and snuffs the air;
Arnold. A noble sight!

There's not a foal of Arab's breed
Stranger. And of

More knows whom he must bear!
A nobler breed. Match me in Barbary, On the hill he will not tire,
Or your Kochlany race of Araby,

Swifter as it waxes higher ;
With these!

In the marsh he will not slacken,
Arnold. The mighty stream, which On the plain be overtaken;
volumes high

In the wave he will not sink,
From their proud nostrils, burns the very air: Nor pause at the brook's side to drink;
And sparks of flame, like dancing fire-flies, In the race he will not pant,

In the combat he'll not faint; Around their manes, as common insects On the stones he will not stamble, swarm

Time nor toil shall make him humble;
Round common steeds towards sunset. In the stall he will not stiffen,
Stranger. Mount, my Lord ;

But be winged as a Griffin,
They and I are your sorvitore.

Only flying with his feet:

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of an eye.

And will not such a voyage be sweet ? Of fixed Necessity : against her edict
Merrily! merrily! never unsound, Rebellion prospers not.
Shall our bonny black horses skim over Arnold. And when it prospers-
the ground!

Cæsar. 'Tis no rebellion. From the Alps to the Caucasus, ride we, Arnold. Will it prosper now? or fly!

Cæsar. The Bourbon hath given orders For we'll leave them behind in the glance for the assault,

And by the dawn there will be work.
[They mount their horses, and dis- 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.

That sky whence Christ ascended from the

cross, ARNOLD and CÆSAA.

Which his blood made a badge of glory and Cæsar. You are well entered nov. Of joy (as once of torture unto him, Arnold. Aye; but my path

God and God's Son, man's sole and only
Has been o'er carcasses: mine eyes are full refuge).
Of blood.

Cæsar. 'Tis there, and shall be.
Cæsar. Then wipe them, and see clearly. Arnold. What?

Cæsar. The Crucifix
Thou art a conqueror; the chosen knight Above, and many altar-shrines below.
And free companion of the gallant Bourbon, Also some culverins upon the walls,
Late Constable of France; and now to be And harquebusses, and what not, besides
Lord of the city which hath been Earth's lord The men who are to kindle them to death
And its Emperors', and-changing sex, Of other men.
Not sceptre, an hermaphrodite of empire- Arnold. And those scarce mortal arches,
Lady of the Old World.

Pile above pile of everlasting wall, Arnold. How old? What! are there The theatre where emperors and their subjects New worlds ?

(Those subjects Romans) stood a gaze upon Cæsar. To you. You'll find there are The battles of the monarchs of the wild such shortly,

And wood, the lion and his tusky rebels By their rich harvests,new disease, and gold; of the then untamed desert, brought to joust From one half of the world named a whole In the arena; (as right well they might, new one,

When they had left no human foe unconBecause you know no better than the dull quered ;) And dubious notice of your eyes and ears. Made even the forest pay its tribute of Arnold. I'll trust them.

Life to their amphitheatre, as well Cæsar. Do! They will deceive you As Dacia men to die the eternal death sweetly,

For a sole instant's pastime, and “Pass on And that is better than the bitter truth! To a new gladiator!”– Must it fall ? Arnold. Dog!

Cæsar. The city or the amphitheatre? Cæsar. Man !

The church,or one,or all? for you confound Arnold. Devil!

Both them and me. Cæsar. Your obedient, humble servant. Arnold. To-morrow sounds the assault Arnold. Say Master rather. Thou hast With the first cock-crow. lured me on,

Cæsar. Which, if it end with Through scenes of blood and lust, till 1 The evening's first nightingale, will be am here.

Something new in the annals of great sieges: Cæsar. And where would'st thou be ? For men must have their prey after long toil. Arnold.. Oh, at peace-in peace!

Arnold. The Sun goes down as calmly, Cæsar. And where is that which is so? and perhaps From the star

More beautifully, than he did on Rome To the winding worm, all life is motion ; On the day Remus leapt her wall. and

Cæsar. I saw him. In life commotion is the extremest point Arnold. You ! Of life. The planet wheels till it becomes Cæsar. Yes, Sir. You forget I am or was A comet, and destroying as it sweeps Spirit, till I took up with your cast shape The stars, goes out. The poor worm winds And a worse name. I'm Cæsar and a hunch

back Living upon the death of other things, Now. Well! the first of Cæsars was a baldBut still, like them, must live and die, head, the subject

And loved his laurels better as a wig Of something which has made it live and die. (So history says) than as glory. Thus You must obey what all obey, the rule The world runs on, but we'll be merry still.

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For ages.

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I saw your Romulus (simple as I ain)

Song of the Soldiers within.
Slay his own twin, quick-born of the same

The Black Bands came over
Pecause he leapt a ditch ('twas then no wall,

The Alps and their snow,

With Bourbon, the rover,
Whate'er it now be); and Rome's earliest

They past the broad Po.

We have beaten all foemen,
Was brother's blood; and if its native blood
Be spilt till the choked Tiber be as red

We have captured a king,

We have turned back on no men,
As e'er 'twas yellow, it will never wear
The deep hue of the Ocean and the Earth,

And so let us sing!

Here's the Bourbon for ever!
Which the great robber-sons of Fratricide
Have made their never-ceasing scene of

Though penniless all,

We'll have one more endeavour

At yonder old wall.
Arnold. But what have these done, their far

With the Bourbon we'll gather
Remote descendants, who have lived in

At day-dawn before

The gates, and together

Or break or climb o'er
The peace of heaven, and in her sunshine of

The wall: on the ladder

As mounts each firm foot,
Cæsar. And what had they done, whom

Our shout shall grow gladder,
the old
Romans o'erswept?—Hark!

And death only be mute.

With the Bourbon we'll mount o'er
Arnold. They are soldiers singing
A reckless roundelay, upon the eve

The walls of old Rome,

And who then shall count o'er
Of many deaths, it may be of their own.
Cæsar. And why should they not sing

The spoils of each dome?
as well as swans ?

Up! up! with the lily!
They are black ones, to be sure.

And down with the keys!
Arnold. So, you are learn'd,

In old Rome, the Seven-hilly,

We'll revel at ease.
I see, too.

Her streets shall be gory,
Cæsar. In my grammar, certes. I
Was educated for a monk of all times,

Her Tiber all red,
And once I was well versed in the forgotten

And her temples so hoary
Etruscan letters, and were I so minded -

Shall clang with our tread.

Oh, the Bourbon ! the Bourbon !
Could make their hieroglyphics plainer than
Your alphabet.

The Bourbon for aye !
Arnold. And wherefore do you


Of our song bear the burthen!
Cæsar. It answers better to resolve the

And fire, fire away!

With Spain for the vanguard,

Our varied host comes ?
Back into hieroglyphics. Like your states-

And next to the Spaniard
And prophet, pontiff, doctor, alchymist,

Beat Germany's drums ;
Philosopher, and what not, they have built

And Italy's lances
More Babels without new dispersion, than

Are couched at their mother;

But our leader from France is,
The stammering young ones of the Flood's
dull ooze,

Who warred with his brother.

Oh, the Bourbon! the Bourbon!
Who failed and fled each other. Why?
why, marry,

Sans country or home,
Because no man could understand his neigh-

We'll follow the Bourbon,

To plunder old Rome.

Cæsar. An indifferent song
They are wiser now, and will not separate
For nonsense. Nay, it is their brotherhood, For those within the walls,methinks to hear.
Their Shibboleth, their Koran,Talmud, their

Arnold. Yes, if they keep to their chorus.

But here comes
Cabala ; their best brick-work wherewithal

The General with his chiefs and men of trust.
They build more-
Arnold ( interrupting him). Oh, thou A goodly rebel !
everlasting sneerer!

Enter the Constable BOURBON, cum suis.
Be silent! How the soldiers' rough strain

Philibert. How now, noble Priace,
Softened by distance to a hymn-like cadence! You are not cheerful ?

Bourbon. Why should I be so ?
Cæsar. Yes. I have heard the Angels sing. Phil. Upon the eve of conquest, such
Arnold. And Demons howl.

as ours,
Cæsar. And Man too. Let us listen : Most men would be so.
I love all music.

Bourbon. If I were secure!

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Phil Doubt not our soldiers Were the Bourbon. Ah! walls of adamant,

Welcomc the bitter Hunchback! and his They'd crack them. Hunger is a sharp Master, artillery.

The beauty of our host, and brave as beauBourbon. That they will falter is my teous, least of fears.

And generous as lovely. We shall find That they will be repulsed, with Bourbon for Work for you both ere morning. Their chief, and all their kindled appetites Cæsar. You will find, Tomarshal themon-were those hoary walls So please your Highness, no less for yourself. Mountains, and those who guard them like Bourbon. And if I do, there will not be the Gods

a labourer Of the old fables, I would trust my Titans ;– More forward, Hunchback! But now

Cæsar. You may well say so, Phil. They are but men who war with For you have seen that back-as general, mortals.

Placed in the rear in action - but your foes Bourbon. True: but those walls have Have never seen it. girded in great ages,

Bourbon. That's a fair retort, And sent forth mighty spirits. The past earth For I provoked it:- but the Boarbon's breast And present Phantom of imperious Rome Has been, and ever shall be, far advanced Is peopled with those warriors; and methinks In danger's face as yours, were you the Devil. They flit along the eternal city's rampart, Cæsar. And if I were, I might have saved And stretch their glorious, gory, shadowy myself hands,

The toil of coming hera And beckon me away!


Why so ? Phil. So let them! Wilt thon

Cæsar. One half Turn back from shadowy menaces of sha-Of your brave bands of their own bold accord dows?

Will go to him, the other half be sent, Bourbon. They do not menace me. 1 More swiftly, not less surely. could have faced,

Bourbon. Arnold, your Methinks, a Sylla's menace; but they clasp Slight crooked friend's as smake-like in his And raise, and wring their dim and death

words like hands,

As his deeds. And with their thin aspen faces and fixed eyes Cæsar. Your Highness much mistake me. Fascinate mine. Look there!

The first snake was a flatterer-I am none; Phil. I look upon

And for my deeds, I only sting when stung. A lofty battlement.

Bourbon. You are brave, and that's Bourbon. And there!

enough for me; and quick Phil. Not even

In speech as sharp in action - and that's more. A guard in sight; they wisely keep below, am not alone a soldier, but the soldiers' Sheltered by the grey parapet, from some Comrade. Stray bullet of our lansquenets, who might Casar. They are but bad company, Practise in the cool twilight

your Highness; Bourbon. You are blind.

And worse even for their friends than foes, Phil. If seeing nothing more than may as being be seen

More permanent acquaintance.

Phil. How now, fellow ! Bourbon. A thousand years have manned Thou waxest insolent, beyond the privilege the walls

Of a buffoon. With all their heroes,- the last Cato stands Cæsar. You mean, I speak the truth. And tears his bowels, rather than survive I'll lie-it is as easy: then you'll praise me The liberty of that I would enslave. For calling you a hero. And the first Cæsar with his triumphs flits Bourbon. Philibert! From battlement to battlement.

Let him alone; he's brave, and ever has Phil. Then conquer

Been first with that swart face and mounThe walls for which he conquered, and be tain-shoulder greater!

In field or storm, and patient in starvation; Bourbon. True: so I will, or perish. And for his tongue, the camp is full of Phil. You can not.

licence, In such an enterprise to die is rather And the sharp stinging of a lively rogue The dawn of an eternal day, than death. Is, to my mind, far preferable to

The gross, dull, heavy, gloomy execration Count ARNOLD and CÆSAR advance.

Of a merc famished,sullen,grumbling slave, Cæsar. And the mere men-do they too Whom nothing can convince save a full meal, sweat beneath

And wine, and sleep, and a few maravedis, The noon of this same ever-scorching glory? / With which he deems him rich.

Be so.

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