him.

The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before With all his fires and travelling glories round me, But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. Sometimes the moon on soft night clouds to Here will I hold. If there's a power above (And that there is all nature cries aloud Through all her works), he must delight in virtue ;

And that which he delights in must be happy.
But when or where !-this world was made
for Cæsar.

I'm weary of conjectures-this must end 'em.
[Laying his Hand on his Sword.
Thus am I doubly arm'd: my death and life,
My bane and antidote, are both before me.
This in a moment brings me to an end;
But this informs me I shall never die.
The soul, secur'd in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years;
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amid the war of elements,
The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.
What means this heaviness that hangs upon
me ?

This lethargy that creeps thro' all my senses?
Nature oppress'd, and harass'd out with care
Sinks down to rest. This once I'll favor her,
That my awaken'd soul may take her flight,
Renew'd in all her strength, and fresh with
life,

An off'ring fit for heaven. Let guilt or fear
Disturb man's rest, Cato knows neither of 'em,
Indiff'rent in his choice to sleep or die.

15. Forest Sports. LAMB. Margaret. In the name of the boy God, who plays at hood-man-blind with the Muses, and cares not whom he catches: what is it you love?

rest,

Like beauty nestling in a young man's breast,
And all the winking stars, her handmaids, keep
Admiring silence, while those lovers sleep.
Sometimes outstretcht, in very idleness,
Nought doing, saying little, thinking less,
To view the leaves, thin dancers upon air,
Go eddying round; and small birds, how they
fare,
[corn,
When mother Autumn fills their beaks with
Filch'd from the careless Amalthea's horn;
And how the woods berries, and worms provide
Without their pains, when earth has nought
To answer their small wants.
[beside
To view the graceful deer come tripping by,
Then stop, and gaze, then turn, they know not
Like bashful yonkers in society. [why,
To mark the structure of a plant or tree,
And all fair things of earth, how fair they be.
The Mourner visited,

John. How beautiful,

[handling his mourning. And comely do these mourning garments shew! Sure grief hath set his sacred impress here, To claim the world's respect! they note so feelingly

By outward types the serious man within.-
Alas! what part or portion can I claim
In all the decencies of virtuous sorrow,
Which other mourners use? as namely,
This black attire, abstraction from society,
Good thoughts, and frequent sighs, and seldom
smiles,

A cleaving sadness native to the brow, All sweet condolements of like-grieved friends, (That steal away the sense of loss almost) Simon. Simply, all things that live, Men's pity, and good offices From the crook'd worm to man's imperial form, Which enemies themselves do for us then, And God-resembling likeness. The poor fly, Putting their hostile disposition off, [looks. That makes short holyday in the sunbeam, As we put off our high thoughts and proud And dies by some child's hand. The feeble [Pauses, and observes the pictures. With little wings, yet greatly venturous [bird These pictures must be taken down : In the upper sky. The fish in th' other ele- The portraitures of our most antient family ment, [else? For nigh three hundred years! how have 1 What

That knows no touch of eloquence.
Yon tall and elegant stag,
Who paints a dancing shadow of his horns
In the water, where he drinks.

Margaret. myself love all these things, yet so as with a difference :-for example, some animals better than others, some men rather than other men ; the nightingale before the cuckoo, the swift and graceful palfrey before the slow and asinine mule.

Your humor goes to confound all qualities.
What sports do you use in the forest ?-

Simon. Not many; some few, as thus :-
To see the sun to bed, and to arise,
Like some hot amorist with glowing eyes,
Bursting the lazy bands of sleep that bound

him,

listen'd,

The secret history of his own times,
And fashions of the world when he was young:
How England slept out three and twenty years,
While Carr and Villiers rul'd the baby king:
The costly fancies of the pedant's reign,
Balls, feastings, huntings, shows in allegory,
And beauties of the court of James the First.
Margaret enters.

At the sad labor of the toilet, and Full many a glance at the too faithful mirror, Prankt forth in all the pride of ornament, Forgot itself, and trusting to the falsehood Of the indulgent beams, which show, yet hide, Believed itself forgotten, and was fool'd. There Youth, which needed not, nor thought of such [health, John. Comes Margaret here to witness my Vain adjuncts, lavish'd its true bloom, and O, lady, I have suffer'd loss, [disgrace? And bridal beauty, in the unwholesome press And diminution of my honor's brightness. Of flush'd and crowded wassailers, and wasted You bring some images of old times, Margaret, Its hours of rest in dreaming this was pleasure, That should be now forgotten. [gotten, John. And so shall waste them till the sunrise streams Margaret. Old times should never be for- On sallow cheeks and sunken eyes, which I came to talk about them with my friend. should not John. I did refuse you, Margaret, in my pride. [pride, Margaret. If John rejected Margaret in his (As who does not, being splenetic, refuse Sometimes old play-fellows,) the spleen being The offence no longer lives. [gone,

O Woodvil, those were happy days,
When we two first began to love. When first,
Under pretence of visiting my father,
(Being then a stripling nigh upon my age)
You came a wooing to his daughter, John.
Do you remember,

With what a coy reserve and seldom speech,
(Young maidens must be chary of their speech)
I kept the honors of my maiden pride ?
I was your favorite then.

John. O Margaret, Margaret!
These your submissions to my low estate,
And cleaving to the fates of sunken Woodvil,
Write bitter things 'gainst my unworthiness.
Thou perfect pattern of thy slander'd sex,
Whom miseries of mine could never alienate,
Nor change of fortune shake; whom injuries,
And slights (the worst of injuries) which moved
Thy nature to return scorn with like scorn,
Then when you left in virtuous pride this
house,

Could not so separate, but now in this
My day of shame, when all the world forsake,
You only visit me, love, and forgive me.

Have worn this aspect yet for many a year.
The music, and the banquet, and the wine-
The garlands, the rose odors, and the flowers-
The sparkling eyes and flashing ornaments—
The white arms and the raven hair-the braids
And bracelets; swanlike bosoms, and the
necklace

An India in itself, yet dazzling not
The eye like what it circled; the thin robes
Floating like light clouds 'twixt our gaze and
[like,

heaven;

The many-twinkling feet so small and sylph-
Suggesting the more secret symmetry
Of the fair forms which terminate so well—
All the delusion of the dizzy scene,

[ters

Its false and true enchantments-art and nature
Which swam before my giddy eyes, that drank
The sight of beauty as the parch'd pilgrim's
On Arab sands the false mirage, which offers
A lucid lake to his eluded thirst,
Are gone.-Around me are the stars and wa-
Worlds mirror'd in the ocean, goodlier sight
Than torches glared back by a gaudy glass;
And the great element, which is to space
What ocean is to earth, spreads its blue depths,
Soften'd with the first breathings of the spring;
The high moon sails upon her beauteous way.
Serenely smoothing o'er the lofty walls
Of those tall piles and sea-girt palaces,
Whose porphyry pillars, and whose costly
fronts,

§ 16. Soliloquy of Lioni. BYRON.
NOUGHT, save sleep,
Which will not be commanded. Let me hope
it.
[Exit Antonio.
Though my breast feels to anxious; I will try
Whether the air will calm my spirits: 'tis
A goodly night; the cloudy wind which blew
From the Levant hath crept into its cave,
And the broad moon has brighten'd. What a
stillness! [Goes to an open lattice.
And what a contrast with the scene I left,
Where the tall torches' glare, and silver lamps'
More pallid gleam along the tapestried walls,
Spread over the reluctant gloom which haunts
Those vast and dimly-latticed galleries
A dazzling mass of artificial light, [were.
Which show'd all things, but nothing as they So delicately white, it trembles in
There Age essaying to recall the past,
After long striving for the hues of youth

Fraught with the orient spoil of many marbles,
Like altars ranged along the broad canal,
Seem each a trophy of some mighty deed
Rear'd up from out the waters, scarce less
strangely

Than those more massy and mysterious giants
Of architecture, those Titanian fabrics, [have
Which point in Egypt's plains to times that
No other record. All is gentle nought
Stirs rudely; but, congenial with the night,
Whatever walks is gliding like a spirit.
The tinklings of some vigilant guitars
Of sleepless lovers to a wakeful mistress,
And cautious opening of the casement showing
That he is not unheard; while her young hand,
Fair as the moonlight of which it seems part,

The act of opening the forbidden lattice,
To let in love through music, makes his heart

Thrill like his lyre-strings at the sight ;-the| Make their nobility a plea for pity!
Phosphoric of the oar, or rapid twinkle
Of the far lights of skimming gondolas,
And the responsive voices of the choir
Of boatmen answering back with verse for

[dash Then, when the few who still retain a wreck
Of their great fathers' heritage shall fawn
Round a barbarian Vice of Kings' Vice-gerent,
Even in the palace where they sway'd as sove-
reigns,
[reign,
Even in the palace where they slew their sove-
Proud of some name they have disgraced, or
sprung

Some dusky shadow chequering the Rialto;
Some glimmering palace roof, or tapering spire,
Are all the sights and sounds which here per-
vade
From an adulteress boastful of her guilt
The ocean-born and earth-commanding city-With some large gondolier or foreign soldier,
How sweet and soothing is this hour of calm! Shall bear about their bastardy in triumph
I thank thee, Night! for thou hast chased To the third spurious generation ;—when
[throng, Thy sons are in the lowest scale of being,

Javan. It is her voice! the air is fond of it, Which cumber, yet conceal thy difficult path, And enviously delays its tender sounds It cannot long remain secure and open; From the ear that thirsteth for them-Miriam! Nearer and closer the stern Roman winds

Javan, Miriam. [lessness, His trenches; and on every side but this Javan. Nay, stand thus in thy timid breath- Soars his imprisoning wall. Yet, yet 'tis time, That I may gaze on thee, and thou not chide And I must bear thee with me, where are met Because I gaze too fondly.

[me In Pella the neglected church of Christ.

And the fierce stranger in our burning streets
Stands conqueror and how the Roman con-
Let Gischala, let fallen Jotapata [quers,
Tell, if one living man, one innocent child, On my wan cheeks, for then my spirit feasts
Yet wander o'er their cold and scatter'd ashes, Contented on its pleasing thoughts of thee.
They slew them, Miriam, the old grey man, My very prayers are full of thee, I look.
Whose blood scarce tinged their sword-(nay, To heaven and bless thee; for from thee I

The tears thou sheddest feel as though I wrung The way by which we reach the eternal manFrom mine own heart, my life blood's dearest But thou, injurious Javan! coldly doubtest. And-Oh! but I have said too much. Oh!

My gentle deity! I'll crown thee with 009
The whitest lilies and then bow me down
Love's own idolater, and worship thee.
And thou wilt then be mine? my love, love!
How fondly will we pass our lives together;
And wander, heart-link'd, thro' the busy world
Like birds in eastern story.b

Gia. Oh! you rave. lol [ever:
Fred. I'll be a miser of thee; watch thee
At morn, at noon, at eve, and all the night.
We will have clocks that with their silver

Is it not written so in our Law? and He
We worship came not to destroy the Law.
Then let men rain their curses, let the storm
Of human hate beat on his rugged trunk,
I will cling to him, starve, die, bear the scoffs vechime
Of men upon my scatter'd bones with him.
Javan. Oh, Miriam! what a fatal art hast
thou aantal

Shall measure out the moments: and I'll mark The time, and keep love's pleasant calendar. [purpose; To day I'll note a smile': to-morrow how of Of winding thought, word, act, to thy sole Your bright eyes spoke-how saucily; and The enamouring one even now too much enamour'd!

Record a kiss pluck'd from your currant lip,
And say how long 'twas taking; then, thy
voice v s

As rich as stringed harp swept by the winds
In autumn, gentle as the touch that falls T
On serenader's moonlit instrument-
Nothing shall pass unheeded. Thou shalt be
My household goddess-nay smile not, nor
shake
gob
Backwards thy clustering curls, incredulous :
I swear it shall be so it shall, my love.

Gia. Why, now thou'rt mad indeed: mad.
Fred. Oh! not so.

There was a statuary once who lov'd [shaped;
And worshipped the white marble that he
Till, as the story goes, the Cyprus' queen,
Or some such fine kind-hearted deity, [came
Touch'd the pale stone with life, and it be-
At last, Pygmalion's bride: but thee-on
whom a bea
A
Nature had lavish'd all her wealth before,
Now love has touch'd with beauty: doubly fit
For human worship thou, thou-let me pause,
My breath is gone.lolt

Fred. With delight.dule w'I But I may worship thee in silence, still. W Gia. The evening 's dark; now I must go : Until to-morrow.

[farewell kerro

Fred. Oh! not yet, not yet.
Behold! the moon is up, the bright ey'd moon,
And seems to shed her soft delicious light
On lovers reunited. Why, she smiles, 30
And bids you tarry: will you disobey and W
The lady of the sky? beware.
Gia. Farewell.
Nay, nay, I must go.

A Dramatic Scene. Fred. GIANA! my Giana! we will have Nothing but halcyon days: Oh! we will live As happily as the bees that hive their sweets, And gaily as the summer fly, but wiser: I'll be thy servant ever; yet not so. Oh! my own love, divinest, best, I'll be Thy sun of life, faithful through every season, And thou shalt be my flower perennial, My bud of beauty, my imperial rose, My passion flower, and I will wear thee on My heart, and thou shalt never never fade. I'll love thee mightily, my queen, and in The sultry hours I'll sing thee to thy rest With music sweeter than the wild birds' song: And I will swear thine eyes are like the stars, (They are, they are, but softer) and thy shape-Oh! ever while those floating orbs look Fine as the vaunted nymphs who, poets feign'd, Dwelt long ago in woods of Arcady.

Fred. We will go together. dood [wait
Gia. It must not be to-night: my servants
My coming at the fisher's cottage.
Fred. Yet,

[thee,

A few more words, and then I'll part with
For one long night: to-morrow bid me come
(Thou hast already with thine eyes) and bring
My load of love and lay it at thy feet.