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To height of noblest temper heroes old
Arming to battle ; and instead of rage
Deliberate valor breathed, firm and unmoved
With dread of death to flight or foul retreat ;
Nor wanting power to mitigate and 'suage
With solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase
Anguish, and doubt, and fear, and sorrow, and pain,
From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they,
Breathing united force, with fixed thought,
Moved on in silence to soft pipes, that charmed
Their painful steps o'er the burnt soil : and now
Advanced in view they stand : a horrid front
Of dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guise
Of warriors old with ordered spear and shield,
Awaiting what command their mighty chief
Had to impose.

He, above the rest
In shape and gesture proudly eminent,
Stood like a tower ; his form had not yet lost
All her original brightness, nor appeared
Less than archangel ruined, and the excess
Of glory obscured : as when the gun, new risen,
Looks through the horizontal misty air
Shorn of his beams, or from behind the moon,
In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds
On half the nations, and with fear of change
Perplexes monarchs; darkened so, yet shone
Above them all the archangel : but his face
Deep scars of thunder had intrenched ; and care
Sat on his faded cheek; but under brows
Of dauntless courage, and considerate pride,
Waiting revenge.

4. Satan's APOSTROPHEE TO THE SUN. 0, thou ! that, with surpassing glory crowned, Look’st from thy sole dominion like the God Of this new world ; at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminished heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, 0, Sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere ! Till pride, and, worse, ambition, threw me down, Warring in heaven against heaven's matchless King.

5. EVENING. Now came still Evening on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober liveryll all things clad.

Silence accompanied : for beast and bird,
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests,
Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale :
She all night long her amorous des'cant sung :
Silence was pleased. Now glowed the firmament
With living sapphires : Hes' perus, El that led
The starry host, rode brightest ; till the moon,
Rising in clouded majesty, at length
Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light,
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.

With thee conversing I forget all time,
All seasons and their change : all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of morn; her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun
When first on this delightful land he spreads
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,
Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth
After soft showers ; and sweet the coming on
Of grateful evening mild ; then, silent night,
With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon,
And these the gems of heaven, her starry train.

Must I thus leave thee, Paradise ? thus leave
Thee, native soil ? these happy walks and shades,
Fit haunt of gods! where I had hope to spend,
Quiet, though sad, the respite of that day
That must be mortal to us both! O, flowers,
That never will in other climate grow,
My early visitation and my last
At even, which I bred up with tender hand
From the first opening bud, and gave ye names !
Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank
Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount?
Thee, lastly, nuptial bower! by me adorned
With what to sight or smell was sweet! from thee
How shall I part, and whither wander down
Into a lower world, to this obscure
And wild ? How shall we breathe in other air
Less pure, accustomed to immortal fruits ?

CLXV. — QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. Cassius. That you have wronged me, doth appear in this You have condemned and noted Lucius Pulla, For taking bribes here of the Sardians ,

Wherein my letters (praying on his side
Because I knew the man) were slighted off.

Brutus. You wronged yourself, to write in such a case.

Cas. At such a time as this, it is not meet
That every nice offence should bear its comment.

Bru. 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,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last!

Bru. The name of Cassius honors this corruption,
And chas'tisement doth therefore hide its head.

Cas. Chas'tisement!

Bru. Remember March, the idesEl 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 honors
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 hedge me in : I am a soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.

Bru. Go to !El you 're not, Cassius.
Cas. I am.
Bru. I say you are not.

Cas. Urge me no more : I shall forget myself :
Have mind upon your health : tempt me no further!

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. Must I endure all this?

Bru. All this? Ay, more! Fret till your proud heart brear. 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 Under your testy humor ? You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you ; for, from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth, — yea, for my laughter – When you are waspish.

Cas. Is it come to this?

Bru. You say you are a better soldier ;
Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,
And it shall please me well. For mine own part,
I shall be glad to learn of noble men.

Cas. You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus ;
I said an elder soldier, not a better.
Did I say better?

Bru. If you did, I care not.
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 a strong in honesty,
That they pass by me as the idle wind,
Which I respect not. I did send to you
For certain sums of gold, which you denied me; -
For I can raise no money by vile means :
I had rather coin my heart,
And drop my blood for drachmas 47 than to wring
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash
By any indirection. I did send
To you for gold to pay my legions ;
Which you denied me. Was that done like Cassius?
Should I have answered Caius Cassius so?
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 a friend's infirmities;
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

Bru. I do not, till you practice them on me.
Cas. You love me not.
Bru. I do not like your faults.
Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults.

Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear
As huge as high Olympus.

Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come!
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius ;
For Cassius is a-weary of the world -
Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother

Checked like a bondman; all his faults observed,
Set in a note-book, learned and conned by rote,
To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep
My spirit from my eyes! There is my dagger,
And here my naked breast; within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus'141 mine, richer than gold;
If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth :
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart.
Strike as thou didst at Cæsar; for I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better
Than ever thou lovedst Cassius.

Bru. Sheathe your dagger :
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope :
Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor.
0, Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb,
That carries anger as the flint bears fire ;
Who, much enforcëd, shows a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.

Cas. Path Cassius lived
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief and blood ill-tempered vexeth him?

Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too.
Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand
Bru. And my heart, too. —
Cas. 0, Brutus !
Bru. What's the matter ?

Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me,
When that rash humor which my mother gave me
Makes me forgetful ?

Bru. Yes, Cassius ; and, henceforth,
When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
He ’ll think your mother chides, and leave you so.



In France, tobacco has long been a monopoly El — and a very productivo one - in the hands of government. This fact should be borne in mind in reading the following satirical remarks by a French writer against the use of tobacco.

1. THERE is a family of poisonous plants, amongst which we may notice the henbane, the datūra stramonium, and the tobaccoplant. The tobacco-plant is perhaps a little less poisonous than the datura, but it is more so than the henbane, which is a violent poison. Here is the tobacco-plant, as fine a plant as you can wish to see. It grows to the height of six feet; and from the centre of a tuft of leaves, of a beautiful green, shoot out elegant and graceful clusters of pink flowers.

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