Cæs.

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 penny less 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, 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 Tiber 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

For those within the walls, methinks, to hear.

Arn. Yes, if they keep to their chorus.

comes

You may well say so, ||

For you have seen that back—as general,

also by the king, he transferred his services to the Emperor Charles V.]

Sight 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

In speech as sharp in action -and that's more.

I am not alone a soldier, but the soldiers'
Comrade.

Cas. They are but bad company, your highness: And worse even for their friends than foes, as being More permanent acquaintance.

Been first, with that swart face and mountain shoul-
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.

It would be well
If the earth's princes ask'd no more.
Bourb.

Be silent!

Cas. Ay, but not idle. Work yourself with words.

You have few to speak.

Phil.

Whose name you bear like other curs Cæs.

"Tis a great name for blood-hounds. Bourb.

There's a demon

In that fierce rattle-snake thy tongue. Wilt never
Be serious?

Cæs.
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.
Cæs. 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 yourself. 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.

Prince my service

In both we prize it,

And wait within my tent.

[Exeunt BOURBON, ARNOLD, PHILIBERT, &c. Within thy tent!

Cæs. (solus).

Cas. To prate, like other prophets.
Bourb.

Why will you vex him?

Philibert!

Have we not enough To think on? Arnold! I will lead the attack To-morrow.

Arn.

I have heard as much, my lord. Bourb. And you will follow?

Since I must not lead.

Ara. Bourb. 'Tis necessary for the further daring Of our too needy army, that their chief Plant the first foot upon the foremost ladder's First step.

Cas.

Upon its topmost, let us hope : So shall he have his full deserts.

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. "T were 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 CESAR.

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.

3.

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! 't is a time
Awful as thy brother's crime !
Christians war against Christ's shrine:-
Must its lot be like to thine?

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!!

5.

Onward sweep the varied nations!
Famine long bath dealt their rations.
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, each 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.

6.

Ah! behold yon bleeding spectre !
Ilion's children find no Hector;
Priam's offspring loved 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!

7.

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 !

8.

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:

1 Scipio, the second Africanus, is said to have repeated a verse of Homer, and wept over the burning of Carthage. He had better have granted it a capitulation.

Wounded Man. I have died for Rome. Cæs. And so did Bourbon, in another sense. Oh these immortal men and their great motives! But I must after my young charge. He is By this time i' the forum. Charge! charge! [CÆSAR mounts the ladder; the scene closes.

SCENE II.

The City. Combats between the Besiegers and Besieged in the streets. Inhabitants flying in confusion.

Enter CESAR.

Cæs. 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, 't would 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.

the attack. Bourbon wore a white vest over his armour, in order, he said, to be more conspicuous both to his friends and foes. He led on to the walls, and commenced a furious assault, which was repelled with equal violence. Seeing that his army began to waver, he seized a scaling ladder from a soldier standing, and was in the act of ascending, when he was pierced by a musket-ball, and fell. Feeling that his wound was mortal, he desired that his body might be concealed from his soldiers, and instantly expired.” ROBERTSON.]

St. Peter's

at the Altar

SCENE III.

The Pope

The Interior of the Church. Priests, &c. crowding in confusion, and Citizens flying for refuge, pursued by Soldiery.

Enter CESAR.

A Spanish Soldier. Down with them, comrades! seize upon those lamps !

Cleave yon bald-pated shaveling to the chine!
His rosary's of gold!

Lutheran Soldier. Revenge! revenge!
Plunder hereafter, but for vengeance now-
Yonder stands Anti-Christ!

Destroy proud Anti-Christ. I am a Christian.

Cas. Yea, 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 recognize you for his own.
Luth. Sold. Why would you save him? Irepeat he is
The devil, or the devil's vicar upon earth.

Cas. And that's the reason: would you make a quarrel

perceived that there was an extraordinary confusion among the assailants, occasioned by our having shot the Duke of Bourbon he was, as I understood afterwards, that chief personage whom I saw raised above the rest."— Vol. i. p. 120. This, however, is one of the many stories in Cellini's amusing autobiography which nobody seems ever to have believed.]