It is not Cæsar, but the gods, my fathers,
The gods declare against us, and repel
Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle
(Prompted by blind revenge and wild despair),
Were to refuse the awards of Providence,
And not to rest in Heaven's determination.
Already have we shown our love to Rome;
Now let us show submission to the gods.
We took up arms, not to revenge ourselves,
But free the commonwealth; when this end fails,
Arms have no further use: our country's cause,
That drew our swords, now wrests them from our hands,
And bids us not delight in Roman blood,

Unprofitably shed: what men could do

Is done already: heaven and earth will witness,
If Rome must fall, that we are innocent.

Semp. This smooth discourse, and mild behaviour, oft Conceal a traitor-Something whispers me

All is not right-Cato, beware of Lucius.

Cato. Let us appear nor rash nor diffident:
Immoderate valour swells into a fault;
And fear, admitted into public councils,
Betrays like treason. Let us shun them both.
Fathers, I cannot see that our affairs

Are grown thus desperate: we have bulwarks round us;
Within our walls are troops inured to toil
In Afric's heats, and seasoned to the sun:
Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind us,
Ready to rise at its young prince's call.
While there is hope, do not distrust the gods;
But wait at least till Cæsar's near approach
Force us to yield. "Twill never be too late
To sue for chains, and own a conqueror.
Why should Rome fall a moment ere her time?
No, let us draw her term of freedom out
In its full length, and spin it to the last.
So shall we gain still one day's liberty;
And let me perish; but in Cato's judgment,
A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty,
Is worth a whole eternity of bondage.
(86)
19

VIII.-CATO ON THE SOUL.

(ADDISON.)

It must be so!-Plato, thou reason'st well!
Else, whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?

Or whence this secret dread and inward horror
Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself, and startles at destruction?—
'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us;

'Tis Heaven itself that points out an Hereafter,
And intimates Eternity to man.

Eternity!-thou pleasing-dreadful thought!
Through what variety of untried being,

Through what new scenes and changes must we pass !
The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me;
But shadows, clouds, and darkness, rest upon it.—
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 them.-

[Laying his hand on his sword.

Thus I am doubly armed. 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, secured 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 amidst the war of elements,

The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.

IX.-EXPULSION OF CATILINE FROM THE SENATE.

(CROLY.)

Catiline conspired with many of the most worthless characters in Rome to overthrow the government and rule the state. The conspiracy being detected by Cicero, the consul, Catiline was driven from the senate and from the city, and was killed at the battle of Pistoria in 63 B.C.

SCENE.-Senate in session; a consul in the chair; lictors present.

CICERO concluding his speech.

Cicero. OUR long dispute must close.

more

Of this rebellion. Lucius Catiline

Has been commanded to attend the senate.

Take one proof

He dares not come! I now demand your votes!
Is he condemned to exile?

(Enter Catiline hastily, and as he seats himself on one side, all the senators go over to the other.)

Cic. (Turning to Catiline.) Here I repeat the charge, to gods and men,

Of treasons manifold;—that but this day
He has received despatches from the rebels;
That he has leagued with deputies from Gaul
To seize the province,—nay, he has levied troops,
And raised his rebel standard; that but now
A meeting of conspirators was held

Under his roof, with mystic rites and oaths,
Pledged round the body of a murdered slave.
To these he has no answer.

Catiline. Conscript fathers!

I do not rise to waste the night in words;
Let that plebeian talk; 'tis not my trade:

But here I stand for right!-Let him show proofs !-
For Roman right! though none, it seems, dare stand
To take their share with me. Ay, cluster there!
Cling to your master,-judges, Romans, slaves!
His charge is false! I dare him to his proofs.
You have my answer: let my actions speak!

Cic. (Interrupting.) Deeds shall convince you! Has the traitor done?

Cat. But this I will avow, that I have scorned, And still do scorn, to hide my sense of wrong; Who brands me on the forehead, breaks my sword, Or lays the bloody scourge upon my back, Wrongs me not half so much as he who shuts The gates of honour on me,-turning out The Roman from his birthright,—and for what? To fling your offices to every slave: (Looking round him.) Vipers, that creep where man disdains to climb; And having wound their loathsome track to the top Of this huge, mouldering monument of Rome, Hang hissing at the nobler men below.

Cic. This is his answer! Must I bring more proofs? Fathers, you know there lives not one of us,

But lives in peril of his midnight sword.

Lists of proscription have been handed round,
In which your properties are made

Your murderer's hire.

(A cry without, "More prisoners!" Enter an officer with letters for Cicero, who, after looking at them, sends them round the senate.)

Cic. Fathers of Rome! if men can be convinced

By proof, as clear as daylight, here it is!

Look on these letters! Here's a deep-laid plot

To wreck the provinces; a solemn league,
Made with all form and circumstance.

The time

Is desperate, all the slaves are up,-Rome shakes!—
The heavens alone can tell how near our graves
We stand even here! The name of Catiline
Is foremost in the league. He was their king.
Tried and convicted Traitor! Go from Rome!

Cat. (Rising haughtily.) Come, consecrated lictors, from (To the senate.)

your thrones!

Fling down your sceptres!-take the rod and axe,

And make the murder, as you make the law!

Cic. (To an officer, and interrupting Catiline.) Give up the record of his banishment.

(The officer gives it to the consul.) Cat. (With indignation.) Banished from Rome! What's banished, but set free

From daily contact of the things I loathe?
"Tried and convicted traitor!" who says this?
Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head?

this hour,—

Banished? I thank you for't! It breaks my chain !
I held some slack allegiance till
But now my sword's my own.

Smile on, my lords!
I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes,
Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs,
I have within my heart's hot cells shut up,
To leave you in your lazy dignities!

But here I stand and scoff you !-here I fling
Hatred and full defiance in your face!

Your consul's merciful; for this, all thanks!
He dares not touch a hair of Catiline!

Consul. (Reads.) “Lucius Sergius Catiline! by the decree of the senate, you are declared an enemy and alien to the state, and banished from the territory of the commonwealth!" (Turning to the lictors.)

Lictors, drive the traitor from the temple!

66

Cat. Traitor!" I go,—but I return! This trial!
Here I devote your senate!-I've had wrongs,
To stir a fever in the blood of age,

And make the infant's sinews strong as steel.

This day's the birth of sorrows! This hour's work
Will breed proscriptions! Look to your hearths, my lords!
For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods,
Shapes hot from Tartarus! all shames and crimes;
Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn;
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup;
Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe,
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones;
Till Anarchy comes down on you like night,
And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave!