Makes glad whose frown is terrible; whose forms, Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty, Scaling yonder peak, I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow, Of measuring the ample range beneath, And round about; absorbed, he heeded not The death that threatened him.-I could not shoot And let him soar away! Heavens! with what pride I used How happy was I then! I loved Its very storms. Yes, I have often sat In my boat at night, when midway o'er the lake_ As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink, Then I have thought of other lands, whose storms Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just Have wished me there;-the thought that mine was free Has checked that wish, and I have raised my head, And cried in thraldom to that furious wind, Blow on! This is the land of liberty! XIV.-ION CONTEMPLATING THE DEATH OF KING ADRASTUS. I DREAM no more Talfourd. Of azure realms where restless beauty sports Afar is broken by a streak of fire That shapes my name ;-the fearful wind, that moans Before the storm, articulates its sound: And as I passed but now the solemn range Of Argive monarchs, that in sculptured mockery As conscious marble; while their ponderous lips- And murmured-"HAIL! HAIL! ION THE DEVOTED!" The gods have prompted me! for they have given Else dumb or musical; and I rejoice To step from the grim round of waking thoughts Ye eldest gods! Who in no statues of exactest form This arm to the destruction of the King That this keen weapon shake not, when his heart My country asks, harden my soul to shed it! XV.-LEONI'S NIGHT-SOLILOQUY IN VENICE.-Byron. I WILL to rest, right weary of this revel, The gayest we have held, for many moons. And through my spirit chilled my blood, until It reached its zenith, and will woo my pillow I will try 406 Whether the air will calm my spirits: 'tis And the broad moon has brightened. What & stillness! A dazzling mass of artificial light, Which showed all things, but nothing as they were. Of those tall pines, and sea-girt palaces; Seem each a trophy of some mighty deed, Reared up from out the waters,-scarce less strangely Of architecture, those Titanian fabrics, Which point in Egypt's plains to times that have No other record. All is gentle: nought Stirs rudely; but, congenial with the night, The act of opening the forbidden lattice To let in love through music.-makes his heart Of boatmen, answering back, with verse for verse— Of thy benign and quiet influence,- DIALOGUES. I. BRUTUS AND CASSIUS.-Shakspeare. Cas. That you have wronged me doth appear in thisYou have condemned and noted Lucius Pella, For taking bribes here of the Sardians; Wherein my letters (praying on his side, Because I knew the man) were slighted of. Bru. You wronged yourself to write in such a case. Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet That every nice offence should bear its comment. Bru. Yet let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemned to have an itching palm; To sell and mart your offices for gold, To undeservers. Cas. I an itching palm! You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Cas. Chastisement! Bru. Remember March, the ides of March, remember Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake? What villain touched his body, that did stab, And not for justice? What ! shall one of us, That struck the foremost man of all this world, But for supporting robbers; shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honours, For so much trash as may be grasped thus? I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman. Cas. Brutus, bay not me! I'll not endure it; you forget yourself To make conditions. Bru. Go to; you are not, Cassius. Bru. I say, you are not. Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself— Have mind upon your health-tempt me no farther! Bru. Away, slight man! Cas. Is't possible? Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash choler? Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? Cas. O gods! ye gods! must I endure all this? Bru. All this? ay, more. Fret till your proud heart break; Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch Cas. Is it come to this? Bru. You say you are a better soldier; Let it appear so: make your vaunting true, Cas. You wrong me every way- Bru. If you did, I care not. -you wrong me, Brutus; Cas. When Cæsar lived, he durst not thus have moved me. Bru. Peace, peace; you durst not so have tempted him. Cas. I durst not? Bru. No. Cas. What! durst not tempt him? Bru. For your life you durst not. Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love; I may do that I shall be sorry for. Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; For I am armed so strong in honesty, That they pass by me as the idle wind, For certain sums of gold, which you denied me; I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring, To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius ? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, To lock such rascal-counters from his friends, Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, Dash him to pieces! Cas. I denied you not. Bru. You did. Cas. I did not; he was but a fool That brought my answer back.-Brutus hath rived my heart. A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me. Cas. You love me not? Bru. I do not like your faults. Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. |