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avenge me?

With your best friends? You had far best Cæsar. And that were shame! Go to ! be quiet;

Assist in their conversion. His hour is not yet come.

[The Soldiers disperse; many quit the Lutheran Soldier. That shall be seen!

Church, others enter.
(The Lutheran Soldier rushes forward; Cæsar. They are gone,

a shot strikes him from one of the And others come: so flows the wave on wave
Pope's Guards, and he falls at the Of what these creatures call eternity,
foot of the Altar.

Deeming themselves the breakers of the Cæsar (to the Lutheran). I told you 80.

ocean, Lutheran Soldier. And will you not While they are but its bubbles, ignorant

That foam is their foundation. So, another! Cæsar. Not I! You know that “Ven

Enter Olimpia, flying from the pursuit- She geance is the Lord's :" You see he loves no interlopers.

springs upon the altar. Lutheran (dying). Oh!

Soldier. She's mine. Had I but slain him, I had gone on high, Another Soldier (opposing the former). Crowned with eternal glory! Heaven, You lie, I track'd her first; and, were she forgive

The Pope's niece, I'll not yield her. My feebleness of arm that reach'd him not,

[They fight. And take thy servant to thy mercy. 'Tis Third Soldier (advancing towardsOlimpia). A glorious trinmph still; proud Babylon's

You may settle
No more; the Harlot of the Seven Hills Your claims ; I'll make mine good.
Hath changed her scarlet raiment for sack- Olimpia. Infernal slave!

You touch me not alive.
And ashes!

(The Lutheran dics. Third Soldier. Alive or dead! Cæsar. Yes, thine own amidst the rest. Olimpia (embracing a massive crucifix). Well done, old Babel!

Respect your God!
(The Guards defend themselves des- Third Soldier. Yes, when he shines in gold.

perately, while the Pontiff cscapes, Girl, you but grasp your dowry.
by a private passage, to the Vati- (As he advances, Olimpia, with a strong
can and the Castle of St. Angelo.

and sudden effort, casts down the Cæsar. Ha! right nobly battled !

crucifix; it strikes the Soldier, who Now, Priest! now, Soldier! the two great falls. professions,

Third Soldier. Oh, great God! Together by the ears and hearts! I have not Olimpia. Ah! now you recognize him. Seen a more comic pantomime since Titus Third Soldier. My brain's crushed! Took Jewry. But the Romans had the best Comrades, help ho! All's darkness ! then;

[He dies. Now they must take their turn.

Other Soldiers (coming up). Slay her, Soldiers. He hath escaped! Follow !

although she had a thousand lives: Another Soldier. They have barred the She hath killed our comrade. narrow passage up,

Olimpia. Welcome such a death! And it is clogged with dead even to the door. You have no life to give, which the worst Cæsar. I am glad he hath escaped: he

slave may thank me fort

Would take. Great God! through thy In part. I would not have his Bulls abo

redecming Son, lished

And thy Son's Mother, now receive me as 'Twere worth one half our empire: his I would approach thee, worthy her, and Indulgences

him, and thee! Demand some in return;—no, no, he must not

Enter ARNOLD. Fall;- and besides, his now escape may furnish

Arnold. What do I see? Accursed Jackalls! A future miracle, in future proof

Forbear! Of his infallibility. [To the Spanish Soldiers. Cæsar (aside, and laughing). Ha! ha! Well, Cut-throats !

here's equity! The dogs What do you pause for? If you make not Have as much right as de. But to the issue! haste,

Soldiers. Count, she hath slain our There will not be a link of pious gold left.

comrade. And you too, Catholics ! Would ye return Arnold. With what weapon ? From such a pilgrimage without a relic? Soldier. The cross, beneath which he is The very Lutherans have more true devotion:

crushed; behold him See how they strip the shrines !

Lie there, more like a worm than man; Soldiers. By holy Peter!

she cast it He speaks the truth; the hcrctics will bear Upon his head. The best away.

Arnold. Even so; there is a womau

led you

Worthy a brave man's liking. Were ye No înjury! And now thou wouldst such,

preserve me, Ye would have honoured her. But get ye To be—but that shall never be! hence,

(She raises her cyes to Heaven, folde And thank your meanness, other God you

her robe round her, and prepares to have none,

dash herself down on the side of the For your existence. Had you touched a hair

Altar opposite to that where Arnold of those dishevelled locks, I would have

stands. thinned

Arnold. Hold! hold! I swear. Your ranks more than the enemy. Away! Olimpia. Spare thine already forfeit soul Ye Jackalls! gnaw the bones the lion leaves, A perjury for which even Hell would loathe But not even these till he permits.

thee. A Soldier (murmuring). The Lion I know thee. Might conquer for himself then.

Arnold. No,thou know'st me not; I am not Arnold (cuts him down). Mutineer! Of these men, though, Rebel in Hell—you shall obey on earth! Olimpia. I judge thee by thy mates :

[The Soldiers assault Arnold. It is for God to judge thee as thou art. Come on! I'm glad on't! I will show you, I see thee purple with the blood of Rome; slaves,

Take mine, 'tis all thou e'er shalt have of me! How you should be commanded, and who And here, upon the marble of this temple,

Where the baptismal font baptised me God's, First o'er the wall you were as shy to scale, I offer him a blood less holy Until I waved my banners from its height, But not less pure (pure as it left me then, As you are bold within it.

A redeemed infant) than the holy water (Arnold mows down the foremost; the The Saints have sanctified ! rest throw down their arms.

(Olimpia waves her hand to Arnold with Soldiers. Mercy! mercy!

disdain, and dashes herself on the Arnold. Then learn to grant it. Have pavement from the Altar. I taught you who

Arnold Eternal God! Led you o'er Rome's eternal battlements ? I feel thee now! Help! Help! She's gone. Soldiers. We saw it, and we know it; Cæsar (approaches). I am here. yet forgive

Arnold. Thou! but ob, save her! A moment's error in the heat of conquest- Cæsar (assisting him to raise Olimpia). The conquest which you led to.

She hath done it well; Arnold. Get you hence !

The leap was serious. Hence to your quarters! you will find them Arnold. Oh! she is lifeless! fixed

Cæsar. If In the Colonna-palace.

She be so, I have nought to do with that: Olimpia (aside). In my father's house! The resurrection is beyond me. Arnold (to the Soldiers). Leave your Arnold. Slave!

arms; ye have no further need Casar. Aye, slave or master, ris all Of such : the City's rendered. And mark well one: methinks You keep your hands clean, or I'll find Good words, however, are as well at times. out a stream,

Arnold. Words! - Canst thou aid her! As red as Tiber now runs, for your baptism. Cæsar. I will try. A sprinkling Soldiers (deposing their arms and de- Of that same holy water may be useful. parting). We obey!

[He brings some in his helmet from the font. Arnold (to Olimpia). Lady! you are safe. Arnold. Tis mixed with blood. Olimpia. I should be so,

Cæsar. There is no cleaner now in Rome. Had I a knife even; but it matters not- Arnold. How palel how beautiful! how Death hath a thousand gates; and on the lifeless! marble,

Alive or dead, thou essence of all beauty, Even at the altar-foot, whence I look I love but thee! down

Cæsar. Even so Achilles loved Upon destruction, shall my head be dash'd, Penthesilea; with his form it seems Ere thou ascend it. God forgive thee, man! You have his

heart, and yet it was no soft one. Arnold. I wish to merit his forgiveness,

Arnold. She breathes ! But no, 'twas and

nothing, or the last Thinc own, although I have not injured Faint flutter life disputes with death. thee.

Cæsar. She breathes. Olimpia. No! Thou hast only sacked my Arnold. Thou sayst it? Then 'tis truth. native land,

Cæsar. You do me right No injury!-and made my father's house The Devil speaks truth much oftener than A den orihieves- No injury!- this templom

he's deemed : Slippery with Roman and holy gorc. He hath an ignorant audience.

Arnold (without attending to him). Yes! Arnold Now onward, onward! Gently! her heart beats.

(Ereunt, bearing Olimpia.- The Scene Alas! that the first beat of the only heart

clases. I ever wish'd to beat with mine, should

vibrate To an assassin's pulse.

ACT III. Cæsar. A sage reflexion, But somewhat late i’ the day. Where shall SCENE I.-A Castle in the Apennincs, surwe bear her!

rounded by a wild but smiling country. I say she lives.

Chorus of Peasants singing before the Arnold. And will she live?

Cæsar. As much

As dust can.
Arnold. Then she is dead!

The wars are over,
Caesar. Bah! bah! You are so,

The spring is comes
And do not know it. She will come to life- The bride and her lover
Such as you think so, such as you now are; Have sought their home:
But we must work by human means. They are happy, we rejoice;
Arnold. We will

Let their hearts have an echo in every voice!
Convey her unto the Colonna-palace,
Where I have pitched my banner.

The spring is come; tho violet's gone, Cæsar. Come then! raise her up.

The first-born child of the early sun; Arnold. Softly!

With us she is but a winter's flower, Casar. As softly as they bear the dead, The snow on the hills cannot blast her Perhaps because they cannot feel the jolting. bower,

Arnold. But doth she live indeed ? And she lifts up her dewy eye of blue Cæsar. Nay, never fear!

To the youngest sky of the self-same hue. But if you rue it after, blame not me. Arnold. Let her but live!

And when the spring comes with her host Cæsar. The spirit of her life

Of flowers, that flower beloved the most Is yet within her breast, and may revive. Shrinks from the crowd that may confuse Count! Count! I am your servant in all Her heavenly odour and virgin hues.

things, And this is a new office:-'tis not oft Pluck the others, but still remember I am employed in such ; but you perceive Their Herald out of dim DecemberHow stanch a friend is what you call a fiend. The morning-star of all the flowers, On earth you have often only fiends for The pledge of day-light's lengthen'd hours ; friends;

Nor, 'midst the roses, e'er forget
Now I desert not mine. Soft! bear her hence, The virgin, virgin Violet.
The beautiful half-clay, and nearly spirit!
I am almost enamoured of her, as

Enter CÆSAR.
Of old the Angels of her earliest sex.

Cæsar (singing). The wars are all over,
Arnold. Thou !
Cæsar. I. But fear not.

Our swords are all idle,
I'll not be

The steed bites the bridlo,
Arnold. Rival!

The casque's on the wall. Cæsar. I could be one right formidable; There's rest for the rover ; But since I slew the seven husbands of

But his armour is rusty, Tobia's future bride (and after all

And the veteran grows crusty, 'Twas sucked out by some incense) I have laid

As he yawns in the hall. Aside intrigue: 'tis rarely worth the trouble He drinks—but what's drinking? of gaining, or-what is more difficult- A mere pause from thinking ! Getting rid of your prize again; for there's No bugle awakes him with life-and-death

call. The rub! at least to mortals. Arnold. Prithee, peace!

Chorus. Softly! methinks her lips move, her eyes

But the hound bayeth loudly, Cæsar. Like stars, no doubt; for that's The boar 's in the wood, a metaphor

And the falcon longs proudly For Lucifer and Venus.

To spring from her hood: Arnold. To the palace

On the wrist of the noble Colonna, as I told you !

She sits like a crest, Cæsar. Oh! I know

And the air is in trouble My way through Rome.

With birds from their nest.

your rival.


Cæsar. Oh! Shadow of glory!

Dim image of war!
But the chase hath no story,

Her hero no star,
Since Nimrod, the founder

Of empire and chase,
Who made the woods wonder,

And quake for their race.
When the Lion was young,

In the pride of his might, Then 'twas sport for the strong

To embrace him in fight; To go forth, with a pine

For a spear, 'gainst the Mammoth, Or strike through the ravine

At the foaming Behemoth,
While Man was in stature

As towers in our time,
The first-born of Nature,
And, like her, sublime!

But the wars are over,

The spring is comes
The bride and her lover

Have sought their home;
They are happy, and we rejoice;
Let their hearts have an echo from every

voice !

(Ereunt the Peasantry, singing,


me none.

Long years!—It tries the thrilling frame But this is o'er-my pleasant task is done. to bear

My long-sustaining friend of many years! And eagle-spirit of a Child of song- If I do blot thy final page with tears, Long years of outrage, calumny and wrong; Know that my sorrows have wrung from Imputed madness, prison'd solitude, And the mind's canker in its savage mood, But thou,my young creation! my soul's child! When the impatient thirst of light and air which ever playing round me came and Parches the heart, and the abhorred grate,

smil Marring the sunbeams with its hideous And woo'd me from myself with thy sweet shade,

sight, Works through the throbbing eyeball to Thou too art gone-and so is my delight:

the brain

And therefore do I weep and inly bleed With a hot sense of heaviness and pain, With this last bruise upon a broken reed. And bare, at once, Captivity display'd Thou too art ended-what is left me now? Stands scoffing through the never-opend For I have anguish yet to bear, and how?


I know not that, but in the innate force Which nothing through its bars admits, of my own spirit shall be found resource.

save day

I have not sunk, for I had no remorse, And tasteless food, which I have eat alone Nor cause for such: they call’d me madTill its unsocial bitterness is gone,

and why? And I can banquet like a beast of prey,

Oh Leonora! wilt not thou reply? Sullen and lonely, couching in the cave I was indeed delirious in


heart Which is my lair, and - it may be - my grave: To lift my love so lofty as thou art; All this hath somewhat worn me, and may But still my frenzy was not of the mind;


I knew my fault, and feel my punishment But must be borne. I stoop not to despair; Not less because I suffer it unbent. For I have battled with mine agony, That thou wert beautiful, and I not blind, And made me wings wherewith to overfly Hath been the sin which shuts me from The narrow circus of my dungeon-wall,

mankind; And freed the Holy Sepulchre from thrall; But let them go, or torture as they will, And revell’d among men and things divine, My heart can multiply thine image still; And pour'd my spirit over Palestine, Successful love may sate itself away, In honour of the sacred war for him, The wretched are the faithful; 'tis their fate The God who was on earth and is in heaven, To have all feeling save the one decay, For he hath strengthend me in heart and And every passion into one dilate,


As rapid rivers into ocean pour; That through this sufferance I might be But ours is fathomless, and hath no shore.

forgiven, I have employ'd my penance to record How Salem's shrine was won, and how Above me, hark! the long and maniac cry

Of minds and bodies in captivity.


may close:

even men

And hark! the lash and the increasing howl, Dwelling deep in my shut and silent heart And the half-inarticulate blasphemy! As dwells the gather'd lightning in its cloud, There be some here with worse than frenzy Encoinpass'd with its dark and rolling foul,

shroud, Some who do still goad on the o'er-labour'd Till struck,-forth flies the all-etherial mind,

dart ! And dim the little light that's left behind And thus at the collision of thy name With needless torture, as their tyrant-will The vivid thought still flashes through my Is wound up to the lust of doing ill:

frame. With these and with their victims am I And for a moment all things as they were


Flit by me;—they are gone, I am the same. 'Mid sounds and sights like these long years And yet my love without ambition grew;

have pass'd ; I knew thy state, my station, and I know 'Mid sights and sounds like these my life A princess was no love-mate for a bard;

I told it not, I breathed it not, it was So let it be-for then I shall repose.

Sufficient to itself, its own reward ;
And if my eyes reveal'd it, they, alas!

Were punish'd by the silentness of thine,
I have been patient, let me be so yet; And yet I did not venture to repine.
I had forgotten half I would forget, Thou wert to me a crystal-girded shrine,
But it revives -oh! would it were my lot Worshipp'd at holy distance, and around
To be forgetful as I am forgot!-

Hallowd and meekly kiss'd the saintly Feel I not wroth with those who bade me

ground; dwell

Not for thou wert a princess, but that Love In this vast lazar-house of many woes ? Had robed thee with a glory, and array'd Where laughter is not mirth, nor thought Thy lineanients in beauty that dismay'd

the mind, Oh! not dismay'd—but awed, like One Nor words a language, nor

abovc; mankind;

And in that sweet severity there was Where cries reply to curses, shrieks to A something which all softness did surpass —


I know not how-thy genius master'd minoAnd each is tortured in his separate hell – My star stood still before thee:- if it wcre For we are crowded in our solitudes Presumptuous thus to love without design, Many, but each divided by the wall, That sad fatality hath cost me dear; Which echoes Madness in her babbling But thou art dearest still, and I should be


Fit for this cell, which wrongs me, but While all can hear, none heeds his neigh

for thee. bour's call The very love which lock'd me to my chain None! save that One, the veriest wretch of all, Hath lighten'd half its weight; and for Who was not made to be the mate of these,

the rest, Nor bound between Distraction and Disease. Though hcavy, lent me vigour to sustain, Feel I not wroth with those who placed And look to thee with undivided breast,

And foil the ingenuity of Pain. Who have debased me in the minds of men, Debarring me the usage of my own, Blighting my life in best of its career, It is no marvel- from my very birth Branding my thoughts as things to shun My soul was drunk with love, which did and fear.

pervade Would I not pay them back these pangs And mingle with whate'er I saw on earth ;


Of objects all inanimate I made And teach them inward gorrow's stifled Idols, and out of wild and lonely flowers,


And rocks, whereby they grew, a paradise, The struggle to be calm, and cold distress, Where I did lay me down within the shade Which undermines our Stoical success ? Of waving trees, and dream'd uncounted No!---still too proud to be vindictive-I

hours, Have pardon'd princes’insults,and would die. Though I was chid for wandering; and Yes, Sister of my Sovereign! for thy sake

the wise I weed all bitterness from out my breast, Shook their white aged heads o'er me, and It hath no business where thou art a guest;

said Thy brother hates- but I can not detest, Of such materials wretched men were made, Thou pitiest not--but I can not forsake. And such a truant boy would end in woe,

And that the only lesson was a blow;

And then they emote me, and I did not weep, Look on a love which knows not to despair, But cursed them in my heart, and to my But all unquench'd is still my better part,


me here?

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