have desired, at last; for this must be the ultimate doom (what ever might otherwise have been the case) of all who have set at defiance the maxims of decency, morality, and religion, however bright their genius, and however vast their powers. As the world grows older, and, we trust, better, as it approximates to that state of religious and moral elevation which Christianity warrants us to anticipate,- many a production which a licentious age has pardoned for its genius will be thrown aside in spite of it. In that day, if genius rebelliously refuse, as it assuredly will not, — for the highest genius has not even hitherto refused, — to consecrate itself to goodness, the world will rather turn to the humblest productions which are instinct with virtue, than to the fairest works of genius when polluted by vice. In a word, the long idolatry of intellect which has enslaved the world will be broken; and that world will perceive that, bright as genius may be, virtue is brighter still.
FROM MILTON'S "PARADISE LOST."
Seasons return; but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, and, for the book of knowledge fair, Presented with a universal blank
Of Nature's works, to me expunged and razed, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.
So much the rather thou, celestial Light,
Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers Irradiate; there plant eyes; all mist from thence Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell
Of things invisible to mortal sight!
2. MARCH OF THE REBEL ANGELS.
All in a moment, through the gloom were seen Ten thousand banners rise166 into the air, With orient colors waving; with them rose A forest huge of spears; and thronging helms Appeared, and serried shields in thick array Of depth immeasurable: anon they move In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood Of flutes and soft recorders; such as raised
To height of noblest temper heroes old Armg to battle; and instead of rage Deliberate valor breathed, firm and unmoved With dread of death to flight or foul retreat; No 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.
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 sun, 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. O, 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, O, Sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state fell, how glorious once above thy sphere! Till pride, and, worse, ambition, threw me down, Warring in heaven against heaven's matchless King
Now came still Evening on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober livery 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: Hesperus, 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.
7. EVE'S REGRETS ON QUITTING PARADISE. 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?
QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS.
Cassius. THAT you have wronged me, doth appear in this You 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 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.
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.
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 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 EI 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?
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
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.
You say you are a better soldier ; Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well.
I shall be glad to learn of noble men.
Cas. You wrong me every way; you wrong me, I said an elder soldier, not a better.
When Cæsar lived, he durst not thus have moved me. Bru. Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him. Cas. I durst not?
Cas. What! durst not tempt him?
Bru. For your life you durst not.
Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love.
1 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, 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.
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.
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
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