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Whose high-waves o'ersweep the border
Of huge moles, but keep their order,
Breaking only rank by rank.
Hearken to the armour's clank!
Look down o'er each frowning warrior,
How he glares upon the barrier:
Look on each step of each ladder,
As the stripes that streak an adder.
III.
Look upon the bristling wall,
Manned without an interval!
Round and round, and tier on tier,
Cannon's black mouth, shining spear,
Lit match, bell-mouthed Musquetoon,
Gaping to be murderous soon;
All the warlike gear of old,
Mixed with what we now behold,
In this strife 'twixt old and new,
Gather like a locusts' crew.
Shade of Remus! 'tis a time
Awful as thy brother's crime!
Christians war against Christ's shrine:-
Must its lot be like to thine?
IV.
Near-and near-and nearer still,
As the Earthquake saps the hill,
First with trembling, hollow motion,
Like a scarce awakened ocean,
Then with stronger shock and louder,
Till the rocks are crushed to powder,-
Onward sweeps the rolling host!
Heroes of the immortal boast!
Mighty Chiefs! eternal shadows!
First flowers of the bloody meadows
Which encompass Rome, the mother
Of a people without brother!
Will you sleep when nations' quarrels
Plough the root up of your laurels?
Ye who weep o'er Carthage burning,
Weep not-strike! for Rome is mourning!
V.
Onward sweep the varied nations!
Famine long hath dealt their rations.
To the wall, with hate and hunger,
Numerous as wolves, and stronger,
On they sweep. Oh, glorious City!
Must thou be a theme for pity?
Fight, like your first sire, each Roman!
Alaric was a gentle foeman,
Matched with Bourbon's black banditti!
Rouse thee, thou eternal City;
Rouse thee! Rather give the torch
With thine own hand to thy porch,
Than behold such hosts pollute
Your worst dwelling with their foot.
VI.
Ah! behold yon bleeding spectre!
Ilion's children find no Hector;
Priam's offspring loved their brother;
Rome's great sire forgot his mother,
When he slew his gallant twin,
With inexpiable sin.
See the giant shadow stride
O'er the ramparts high and wide!
When the first o'erleapt thy wall,
Its foundation mourned thy fall.
Now, though towering like a Babel,
Who to stop his steps are able?
Stalking o'er thy highest dome,
Remus claims his vengeance, Rome!
VII.
Now they reach thee in their anger:
Fire and smoke and hellish clangour
Are around thee, thou world's wonder!
Death is in thy walls and under.
Now the meeting steel first clashes,
Downward then the ladder crashes,
With its iron load all gleaming,
Lying at its foot blaspheming!
Up again! for every warrior
Slain, another climbs the barrier.
Thicker grows the strife: thy ditches
Europe's mingling gore enriches.
Rome! although thy wall may perish,
Such manure thy fields will cherish,
Making gay the harvest-home;
But thy hearths, alas! oh, Rome!-
Yet be Rome amidst thine anguish,
Fight as thou wast wont to vanquish!
VIII.
Yet once more, ye old Penates!
Let not your quenched hearts be Ates!
Yet again, ye shadowy Heroes,
Yield not to these stranger Neros!
Though the son who slew his mother
Shed Rome's blood, he was your brother:
'Twas the Roman curbed the Roman;-
Brennus was a baffled foeman.
Yet again, ye saints and martyrs,
Rise! for yours are holier charters!
Mighty Gods of temples falling,
Yet in ruin still appalling!
Mightier Founders of those altars,
True and Christian,-strike the assaulters!
Tiber! Tiber! let thy torrent
Show even Nature 's self abhorrent.
Let each breathing heart dilated
Turn, as doth the lion baited!
Rome be crushed to one wide tomb,
But be still the Roman's Rome!
[Bourbon, Arnold, Caesar, and others, arrive at the foot of the wall. Arnold is about to plant his ladder.
Bourb.
Hold, Arnold! I am first.
Arn.
Not so, my Lord.
Bourb.
Hold, sir, I charge you! Follow! I am proud
Of such a follower, but will brook no leader.
[Bourbon plants his ladder, and begins to moust.
Now, boys! On! on!
[A shot strikes him, and Bourbon falls.
Caes.
And off!
Arn.
Eternal powers!
The host will be appalled,-but vengeance! vengeance!
Bourb.
'Tis nothing-lend me your hand.
[Bourbon takes Arnold by the hand, and rises; but as he puts his foot on the step, falls again.
Arnold! I am sped.
Conceal my fall-all will go well-conceal it!
Fling my cloak o'er what will be dust anon;
Let not the soldiers see it.
Arn.
You must be
Removed; the aid of-
Bourb.
No, my gallant boy!
Death is upon me. But what is one life?
The Bourbon's spirit shall command them still.
Keep them yet ignorant that I am but clay,
Till they are conquerors-then do as you may.
Caes.
Would not your Highness choose to kiss the cross?
We have no priest here, but the hilt of sword
May serve instead:-it did the same for Bayard.
Bourb.
Thou bitter slave! to name him at this time!
But I deserve it.
Arn. (to Caesar).
Villain, hold your peace!
Caes.
What, when a Christian dies? Shall I not offer
A Christian "Vade in pace?"
Arn.
Silence! Oh!
Those eyes are glazing which o'erlooked the world,
And saw no equal.
Bourb.
Arnold, shouldst thou see
France-But hark! hark! the assault grows warmer-Oh!
For but an hour, a minute more of life,
To die within the wall! Hence, Arnold, hence!
You lose time-they will conquer Rome without thee.
Arn.
And without thee.
Bourb.
Not so; I'll lead them still
In spirit. Cover up my dust, and breathe not
That I have ceased to breathe. Away! and be
Victorious.
Arn.
But I must not leave thee thus.
Bourb.
You must-farewell-Up! up! the world is winning.
[Bourbon dies.
Caes. (to Arnold).
Come, Count, to business.
Arn.
True. I'll weep hereafter.
[Arnold covers Bourbon's body with a mantle, mounts the ladder, crying
The Bourbon! Bourbon! On, boys! Rome is ours!
Caes.
Good night, Lord Constable! thou wert a Man.
[Caesar follows Arnold; they reach the battlement; Arnold and Caesar are struck down.
Caes.
A precious somerset! Is your countship injured?
Arn.
No.
[Remounts the ladder.
Caes.
A rare blood-hound, when his own is heated!
And 'tis no boy's play. Now he strikes them down!
His hand is on the battlement-he grasps it
As though it were an altar; now his foot
Is on it, and-What have we here?-a Roman?
The first bird of the covey! he has fallen
[A man falls.
On the outside of the nest. Why, how now, fellow?
Wounded Man.
A drop of water!
Caes.
Blood's the only liquid
Nearer than Tiber.
Wounded Man.
I have died for Rome.
[Dies.
Caes.
And so did Bourbon, in another sense.
Oh, these immortal men! and their great motives!
But I must after my young charge. He is
By this time i' the Forum. Charge! charge!
[Caesar mounts the ladder; the scene closes.
Scene II.
-The City.-Combats between the Besiegers and Besieged in the streets. Inhabitants flying in confusion.
Enter Caesar.
Caes.
I cannot find my hero; he is mixed
With the heroic crowd that now pursue
The fugitives, or battle with the desperate.
What have we here? A Cardinal or two
That do not seem in love with martyrdom.
How the old red-shanks scamper! Could they doff
Their hose as they have doffed their hats, 'twould be
A blessing, as a mark the less for plunder.
But let them fly; the crimson kennels now
Will not much stain their stockings, since the mire
Is of the self-same purple hue.
Enter a Party fighting-Arnold at the head of the Besiegers.
He comes,
Hand in hand with the mild twins-Gore and Glory.
Holla! hold, Count!
Arn.
Away! they must not rally.
Caes.
I tell thee, be not rash; a golden bridge
Is for a flying enemy. I gave thee
A form of beauty, and an
Exemption from some maladies of body,
But not of mind, which is not mine to give.
But though I gave the form of Thetis' son,
I dipped thee not in Styx; and 'gainst a foe
I would not warrant thy chivalric heart
More than Pelides; heel; why, then, be cautious,
And know thyself a mortal still.
Arn.
And who
With aught of soul would combat if he were
Invulnerable? That were pretty sport.
Think'st thou I beat for hares when lions roar?
[Arnold rushes into the combat.
Caes.
A precious sample of humanity!
Well, his blood's up; and, if a little 's shed,
'Twill serve to curb his fever.
[Arnold engages with a Roman, who retires towards a portico.
Arn.
Yield thee, slave!
I promise quarter.
Rom.
That's soon said.
Arn.
And done-
My word is known.
Rom.
So shall be my deeds.
[They re-engage. Caesar comes forward.
Caes.
Why, Arnold! hold thine own: thou hast in hand
A famous artisan, a cunning sculptor;
Also a dealer in the sword and dagger.
Not so, my musqueteer; 'twas he who slew
The Bourbon from the wall.
Arn.
Aye, did he so?
Then he hath carved his monument.
Rom.
I yet
May live to carve your better's.
Caes.
Well said, my man of marble! Benvenuto,
Thou hast some practice in both ways; and he
Who slays Cellini will have worked as hard
As e'er thou didst upon Carrara's blocks.
[Arnold disarms and wounds Cellini, but slightly: the latter draws a pistol, and fires; then retires, and disappears through the portico.
Caes.
How farest thou? Thou hast a taste, methinks,
Of red Bellona's banquet.
Arn. (staggers).
'Tis a scratch.
Lend me thy scarf. He shall not 'scape me thus.
Caes.
Where is it?
Arn.
In the shoulder, not the sword arm-
And that 's enough. I am thirsty: would I had
A helm of water!
Caes.
That's a liquid now
In requisition, but by no means easiest
To come at.
Arn.
And my thirst increases;-but
I'll find a way to quench it.
Caes.
Or be quenched
Thyself.
Arn.
The chance is even; we will throw
The dice thereon. But I lose time in prating;
Prithee be quick.
[Caesar binds on the scarf.
And what dost thou so idly?
Why dost not strike?
Caes.
Your old philosophers
Beheld mankind, as mere spectators of
The Olympic games. When I behold a prize
Worth wrestling for, I may be found a Milo.
Arn.
Aye, 'gainst an oak.
Caes.
A forest, when it suits me:
I combat with a mass, or not at all.
Meantime, pursue thy sport as I do mine;
Which is just now to gaze, since all these labourers
Will reap my harvest gratis.
Arn.
Thou art still
A fiend!
Caes.
And thou-a man.
Arn.
Why, such I fain would show me.
Caes.
True-as men are.
Arn.
And what is that?
Caes.
Thou feelest and thou see'st.
[Exit Arnold, joining in the combat which still continues between detached parties. The scene closes.
Scene III.
-St. Peter's-The interior of the Church-The Pope at the Altar-Priests, etc., crowding in confusion, and Citizens flying for refuge, pursued by Soldiery.
Enter Caesar.
A Spanish Soldier.
Down with them, comrades, seize upon those lamps!
Cleave yon bald-pated shaveling to the chine!
His rosary 's of gold!
Lutheran Soldier.
Revenge! revenge!
Plunder hereafter, but for vengeance now-
Yonder stands Anti-Christ!
Caes. (interposing).
How now, schismatic?
What wouldst thou?
Luth. Sold.
In the holy name of Christ,
Destroy proud Anti-Christ. I am a Christian.
Caes.
Yea, a disciple that would make the founder
Of your belief renounce it, could he see
Such proselytes. Best stint thyself to plunder.
Luth. Sold.
I say he is the Devil.
Caes.
Hush! keep that secret,
Lest he should recognise you for his own.
Luth. Sold.
Why would you save him? I repeat he is
The Devil, or the Devil's vicar upon earth.
Caes.
And that's the reason: would you make a quarrel
With your best friends? You had far best be quiet;
His hour is not yet come.
Luth. Sold.
That shall be seen!
[The Lutheran Soldier rushes forward: a shot strikes him from one of the Pope's Guards, and he falls at the foot of the Altar.
Caes. (to the Lutheran).
I told you so.
Luth. Sold.
And will you not avenge me?
Caes.
Not I! You know that "Vengeance is the Lord's:"
You see he loves no interlopers.
Luth. Sold. (dying).
Oh!
Had I but slain him, I had gone on high,
Crowned with eternal glory! Heaven, forgive
My feebleness of arm that reached him not,
And take thy servant to thy mercy. 'Tis
A glorious triumph still; proud Babylon 's
No more; the Harlot of the Seven Hills
Hath changed her scarlet raiment for sackcloth
And ashes!
[The Lutheran dies.
Caes.
Yes, thine own amidst the rest.
Well done, old Babel!
[The Guards defend themselves desperately, while the Pontiff escapes, by a private passage, to the Vatican and the Castle of St. Angelo.
Caes.
Ha! right nobly battled!
Now, priest! now, soldier! the two great professions,
Together by the ears and hearts! I have not
Seen a more comic pantomime since Titus
Took Jewry. But the Romans had the best then;
Now they must take their turn.
Soldiers.
He hath escaped!
Follow!
Another Sold.
They have barred the narrow passage up,
And it is clogged with dead even to the door.
Caes.
I am glad he hath escaped: he may thank me for't
In part. I would not have his bulls abolished-
'Twere worth one half our empire: his indulgences
Demand some in return; no, no, he must not
Fall;-and besides, his now escape may furnish
A future miracle, in future proof
Of his infallibility.
[To the Spanish Soldiery.
Well, cut-throats!
What do you pause for? If you make not haste,
There will not be a link of pious gold left.
And you, too, Catholics! Would ye return
From such a pilgrimage without a relic?
The very Lutherans have more true devotion:
See how they strip the shrines!
Soldiers.
By holy Peter!
He speaks the truth; the heretics will bear
The best away.
Caes.
And that were shame! Go to!
Assist in their conversion.
[The Soldiers disperse; many quit the Church, others enter.
Caes.
They are gone,
And others come: so flows the wave on wave
Of what these creatures call Eternity,
Deeming themselves the breakers of the Ocean,
While they are but its bubbles, ignorant
That foam is their foundation. So, another!
Enter Olimpia, flying from the pursuit-She springs upon the Altar.
Sold.
She's mine!
Another Sold. (opposing the former).
You lie, I tracked her first: and were she
The Pope's niece, I'll not yield her.
[They fight.
3d Sold. (advancing towards Olimpia).
You may settle
Your claims; I'll make mine good.
Olimp.
Infernal slave!
You touch me not alive.
3d Sold.
Alive or dead!
Olimp. (embracing a massive crucifix).
Respect your God!
3d Sold.
Yes, when he shines in gold.
Girl, you but grasp your dowry.
[As he advances, Olimpia, with a strong and sudden effort, casts down the crucifix; it strikes the Soldier, who falls.
3d Sold.
Oh, great God!
Olimp.
Ah! now you recognise him.
3d Sold.
My brain 's crushed!
Comrades, help, ho! All's darkness!
[He dies.
Other Soldiers (coming up).
Slay her, although she had a thousand lives:
She hath killed our comrade.
Olimp.
Welcome such a death!
You have no life to give, which the worst slave
Would take. Great God! through thy redeeming Son,
And thy Son's Mother, now receive me as
I would approach thee, worthy her, and him, and thee!
Enter Arnold.
Arn.
What do I see? Accursed jackals!
Forbear!
Caes. (aside and laughing).
Ha! ha! here 's equity! The dogs
Have as much right as he. But to the issue!
Soldiers.
Count, she hath slain our comrade.
Arn.
With what weapon?
Sold.
The cross, beneath which he is crushed; behold him
Lie there, more like a worm than man; she cast it
Upon his head.
Arn.
Even so: there is a woman
Worthy a brave man's liking. Were ye such,
Ye would have honoured her. But get ye hence,
And thank your meanness, other God you have none,
For your existence. Had you touched a hair
Of those dishevelled locks, I would have thinned
Your ranks more than the enemy. Away!
Ye jackals! gnaw the bones the lion leaves,
But not even these till he permits.
A Sold. (murmuring).
The lion
Might conquer for himself then.
Arn. (cuts him down).
Mutineer!
Rebel in hell-you shall obey on earth!
[The Soldiers assault Arnold.
Arn.
Come on! I'm glad on't! I will show you, slaves,
How you should be commanded, and who led you
First o'er the wall you were so shy to scale,
Until I waved my banners from its height,
As you are bold within it.
[Arnold mows down the foremost; the rest throw down their arms.
Soldiers.
Mercy! mercy!
Arn.
Then learn to grant it. Have I taught you who
Led you o'er Rome's eternal battlements?
Soldiers.
We saw it, and we know it; yet forgive
A moment's error in the heat of conquest-
The conquest which you led to.
Arn.
Get you hence!
Hence to your quarters! you will find them fixed
In the Colonna palace.
Olimp. (aside).
In my father's
House!
Arn. (to the Soldiers).
Leave your arms; ye have no further need
Of such: the city 's rendered. And mark well
You keep your hands clean, or I'll find out a stream
As red as Tiber now runs, for your baptism.
Soldiers (deposing their arms and departing).
We obey!
Arn. (to Olimpia).
Lady, you are safe.
Olimp.
I should be so,
Had I a knife even; but it matters not-
Death hath a thousand gates; and on the marble,
Even at the altar foot, whence I look down
Upon destruction, shall my head be dashed,
Ere thou ascend it. God forgive thee, man!
Arn.
I wish to merit his forgiveness, and
Thine own, although I have not injured thee.
Olimp.
No! Thou hast only sacked my native land,-
No injury!-and made my father's house
A den of thieves! No injury!-this temple-
Slippery with Roman and with holy gore!
No injury! And now thou wouldst preserve me,
To be-but that shall never be!
[She raises her eyes to Heaven, folds her robe round her, and prepares to dash herself down on the side of the Altar opposite to that where Arnold stands.
Arn.
Hold! hold!
I swear.
Olimp.
Spare thine already forfeit soul
A perjury for which even Hell would loathe thee.
I know thee.
Arn.
No, thou know'st me not; I am not
Of these men, though-
Olimp.
I judge thee by thy mates;
It is for God to judge thee as thou art.
I see thee purple with the blood of Rome;
Take mine, 'tis all thou e'er shalt have of me,
And here, upon the marble of this temple,
Where the baptismal font baptized me God's,
I offer him a blood less holy
But not less pure (pure as it left me then,
A redeemed infant) than the holy water
The saints have sanctified!
[Olimpia waves her hand to Arnold with disdain, and dashes herself on the pavement from the Altar.
Arn.
Eternal God!
I feel thee now! Help! help! she's gone.
Caes. (approaches).
I am here.
Arn.
Thou! but oh, save her!
Caes. (assisting him to raise Olimpia).
She hath done it well!
The leap was serious.
Arn.
Oh! she is lifeless!
Caes.
If
She be so, I have nought to do with that:
The resurrection is beyond me.
Arn.
Slave!
Caes.
Aye, slave or master, 'tis all one: methinks
Good words, however, are as well at times.
Arn.
Words!-Canst thou aid her?
Caes.
I will try. A sprinkling
Of that same holy water may be useful.
[He brings some in his helmet from the font.
Arn.
'Tis mixed with blood.
Caes.
There is no cleaner now
In Rome.
Arn.
How pale! how beautiful! how lifeless!
Alive or dead, thou Essence of all Beauty,
I love but thee!
Caes.
Even so Achilles loved
Penthesilea; with his form it seems
You have his heart, and yet it was no soft one.
Arn.
She breathes! But no, 'twas nothing, or the last
Faint flutter Life disputes with Death.
Caes.
She breathes.
Arn.
Thou say'st it? Then 'tis truth.
Caes.
You do me right-
The Devil speaks truth much oftener than he's deemed:
He hath an ignorant audience.
Arn. (without attending to him).
Yes! her heart beats.
Alas! that the first beat of the only heart
I ever wished to beat with mine should vibrate
To an assassin's pulse.
Caes.
A sage reflection,
But somewhat late i' the day. Where shall we bear her?
I say she lives.
Arn.
And will she live?
Caes.
As much
As dust can.
Arn.
Then she is dead!
Caes.
Bah! bah! You are so,
And do not know it. She will come to life-
Such as you think so, such as you now are;
But we must work by human means.
Arn.
We will
Convey her unto the Colonna palace,
Where I have pitched my banner.
Caes.
Come then! raise her up!
Arn.
Softly!
Caes.
As softly as they bear the dead,
Perhaps because they cannot feel the jolting.
Arn.
But doth she live indeed?
Caes.
Nay, never fear!
But, if you rue it after, blame not me.
Arn.
Let her but live!
Caes.
The Spirit of her life
Is yet within her breast, and may revive.
Count! count! I am your servant in all things,
And this is a new office:-'tis not oft
I am employed in such; but you perceive
How staunch a friend is what you call a fiend.
On earth you have often only fiends for friends;
Now I desert not mine. Soft! bear her hence,
The beautiful half-clay, and nearly spirit!
I am almost enamoured of her, as
Of old the Angels of her earliest sex.
Arn.
Thou!
Caes.
I! But fear not. I'll not be your rival.
Arn.
Rival!
Caes.
I could be one right formidable;
But since I slew the seven husbands of
Tobias' future bride (and after all
Was smoked out by some incense), I have laid
Aside intrigue: 'tis rarely worth the trouble
Of gaining, or-what is more difficult-
Getting rid of your prize again; for there's
The rub! at least to mortals.
Arn.
Prithee, peace!
Softly! methinks her lips move, her eyes open!
Caes.
Like stars, no doubt; for that 's a metaphor
For Lucifer and Venus.
Arn.
To the palace
Colonna, as I told you!
Caes.
Oh! I know
My way through Rome.
Arn.
Now onward, onward! Gently!
[Exeunt, bearing Olimpia. The scene closes.
PART III.
Scene I.
-A Castle in the Apennines, surrounded by a wild but smiling Country. Chorus of Peasants singing before the Gates.
Chorus.
I.
The wars are over,
The spring is come;
The bride and her lover
Have sought their home:
They are happy, we rejoice;
Let their hearts have an echo in every voice!
II.
The spring is come; the violet 's gone,
The first-born child of the early sun:
With us she is but a winter's flower,
The snow on the hills cannot blast her bower,
And she lifts up her dewy eye of blue
To the youngest sky of the self-same hue.
III.
And when the spring comes with her host
Of flowers, that flower beloved the most
Shrinks from the crowd that may confuse
Her heavenly odour and virgin hues.
IV.
Pluck the others, but still remember
Their herald out of dim December-
The morning star of all the flowers,
The pledge of daylight's lengthened hours;
Nor, midst the roses, e'er forget
The virgin-virgin Violet.
Enter Caesar.
Caes. (singing).
The wars are all over,
Our swords are all idle,
The steed bites the bridle,
The casque 's on the wall.
There 's rest for the rover;
But his armour is rusty,
And the veteran grows crusty,
As he yawns in the hall.
He drinks-but what 's drinking?
A mere pause from thinking!
No bugle awakes him with life-and-death call.
Chorus.
But the hound bayeth loudly,
The boar 's in the wood,
And the falcon longs proudly
To spring from her hood:
On the wrist of the noble
She sits like a crest,
And the air is in trouble
With birds from their nest.
Caes.
Oh! shadow of Glory!
Dim image of War!
But the chase hath no story,
Her hero no star,
Since Nimrod, the founder
Of empire and chase,
Who made the woods wonder
And quake for their race.
When the lion was young,
In the pride of his might,
Then 'twas sport for the strong
To embrace him in fight;
To go forth, with a pine
For a spear, 'gainst the mammoth,
Or strike through the ravine
At the foaming behemoth;
While man was in stature
As towers in our time,
The first born of Nature,
And, like her, sublime!
Chorus.
But the wars are over,
The spring is come;
The bride and her lover
Have sought their home:
They are happy, and we rejoice;
Let their hearts have an echo from every voice!
[Exeunt the Peasantry, singing.
FRAGMENT OF THE THIRD PART
Chorus.
When the merry bells are ringing,
And the peasant girls are singing,
And the early flowers are flinging
Their odours in the air;
And the honey bee is clinging
To the buds; and birds are winging
Their way, pair by pair:
Then the earth looks free from trouble
With the brightness of a bubble:
Though I did not make it,
I could breathe on and break it;
But too much I scorn it,
Or else I would mourn it,
To see despots and slaves
Playing o'er their own graves.
Enter Count Arnold.
Arnold.
You are merry, Sir-what? singing too?
Caesar.
It is
The land of Song-and Canticles you know
Were once my avocation.
Arn.
Nothing moves you;
You scoff even at your own calamity-
And such calamity! how wert thou fallen
Son of the Morning! and yet Lucifer
Can smile.
Caes.
His shape can-would you have me weep,
In the fair form I wear, to please you?
Arn.
Ah!
Caes.
You are grave-what have you on your spirit!
Arn.
Nothing.
Caes.
How mortals lie by instinct! If you ask
A disappointed courtier-What's the matter?
"Nothing"-an outshone Beauty what has made
Her smooth brow crisp-"Oh, Nothing!"-a young heir
When his Sire has recovered from the Gout,
What ails him? "Nothing!" or a Monarch who
Has heard the truth, and looks imperial on it-
What clouds his royal aspect? "Nothing," "Nothing!"
Nothing-eternal nothing-of these nothings
All are a lie-for all to them are much!
And they themselves alone the real "Nothings."
Your present Nothing, too, is something to you-
What is it?
Arn.
Know you not?
Caes.
I only know
What I desire to know! and will not waste
Omniscience upon phantoms. Out with it!
If you seek aid from me-or else be silent.
And eat your thoughts-till they breed snakes within you.
Arn.
Olimpia!
Caes.
I thought as much-go on.
Arn.
I thought she had loved me.
Caes.
Blessings on your Creed!
What a good Christian you were found to be!
But what cold Sceptic hath appalled your faith
And transubstantiated to crumbs again
The body of your Credence?
Arn.
No one-but-
Each day-each hour-each minute shows me more
And more she loves me not-
Caes.
Doth she rebel?
Arn.
No, she is calm, and meek, and silent with me,
And coldly dutiful, and proudly patient-
Endures my Love-not meets it.
Caes.
That seems strange.
You are beautiful and brave! the first is much
For passion-and the rest for Vanity.
Arn.
I saved her life, too; and her Father's life,
And Father's house from ashes.
Caes.
These are nothing.
You seek for Gratitude-the Philosopher's stone.
Arn.
And find it not.
Caes.
You cannot find what is not.
But found would it content you? would you owe
To thankfulness what you desire from Passion?
No! No! you would be loved-what you call loved-
Self-loved-loved for yourself-for neither health,
Nor wealth, nor youth, nor power, nor rank, nor beauty-
For these you may be stript of-but beloved
As an abstraction-for-you know not what!
These are the wishes of a moderate lover-
And so you love.
Arn.
Ah! could I be beloved,
Would I ask wherefore?
Caes.
Yes! and not believe
The answer-You are jealous.
Arn.
And of whom?
Caes.
It may be of yourself, for Jealousy
Is as a shadow of the Sun. The Orb
Is mighty-as you mortals deem-and to
Your little Universe seems universal;
But, great as He appears, and is to you,
The smallest cloud-the slightest vapour of
Your humid earth enables you to look
Upon a Sky which you revile as dull;
Though your eyes dare not gaze on it when cloudless.
Nothing can blind a mortal like to light.
Now Love in you is as the Sun-a thing
Beyond you-and your Jealousy 's of Earth-
A cloud of your own raising.
Arn.
Not so always!
There is a cause at times.
Caes.
Oh, yes! when atoms jostle,
The System is in peril. But I speak
Of things you know not. Well, to earth again!
This precious thing of dust-this bright Olimpia-
This marvellous Virgin, is a marble maid-
An Idol, but a cold one to your heat
Promethean, and unkindled by your torch.
Arn.
Slave!
Caes.
In the victor's Chariot, when Rome triumphed,
There was a Slave of yore to tell him truth!
You are a Conqueror-command your Slave.
Arn.
Teach me the way to win the woman's love.
Caes.
Leave her.
Arn.
Where that the path-I'd not pursue it.
Caes.
No doubt! for if you did, the remedy
Would be for a disease already cured.
Arn.
All wretched as I am, I would not quit
My unrequited love, for all that 's happy.
Caes.
You have possessed the woman-still possess.
What need you more?
Arn.
To be myself possessed -
To be her heart as she is mine.
Of huge moles, but keep their order,
Breaking only rank by rank.
Hearken to the armour's clank!
Look down o'er each frowning warrior,
How he glares upon the barrier:
Look on each step of each ladder,
As the stripes that streak an adder.
III.
Look upon the bristling wall,
Manned without an interval!
Round and round, and tier on tier,
Cannon's black mouth, shining spear,
Lit match, bell-mouthed Musquetoon,
Gaping to be murderous soon;
All the warlike gear of old,
Mixed with what we now behold,
In this strife 'twixt old and new,
Gather like a locusts' crew.
Shade of Remus! 'tis a time
Awful as thy brother's crime!
Christians war against Christ's shrine:-
Must its lot be like to thine?
IV.
Near-and near-and nearer still,
As the Earthquake saps the hill,
First with trembling, hollow motion,
Like a scarce awakened ocean,
Then with stronger shock and louder,
Till the rocks are crushed to powder,-
Onward sweeps the rolling host!
Heroes of the immortal boast!
Mighty Chiefs! eternal shadows!
First flowers of the bloody meadows
Which encompass Rome, the mother
Of a people without brother!
Will you sleep when nations' quarrels
Plough the root up of your laurels?
Ye who weep o'er Carthage burning,
Weep not-strike! for Rome is mourning!
V.
Onward sweep the varied nations!
Famine long hath dealt their rations.
To the wall, with hate and hunger,
Numerous as wolves, and stronger,
On they sweep. Oh, glorious City!
Must thou be a theme for pity?
Fight, like your first sire, each Roman!
Alaric was a gentle foeman,
Matched with Bourbon's black banditti!
Rouse thee, thou eternal City;
Rouse thee! Rather give the torch
With thine own hand to thy porch,
Than behold such hosts pollute
Your worst dwelling with their foot.
VI.
Ah! behold yon bleeding spectre!
Ilion's children find no Hector;
Priam's offspring loved their brother;
Rome's great sire forgot his mother,
When he slew his gallant twin,
With inexpiable sin.
See the giant shadow stride
O'er the ramparts high and wide!
When the first o'erleapt thy wall,
Its foundation mourned thy fall.
Now, though towering like a Babel,
Who to stop his steps are able?
Stalking o'er thy highest dome,
Remus claims his vengeance, Rome!
VII.
Now they reach thee in their anger:
Fire and smoke and hellish clangour
Are around thee, thou world's wonder!
Death is in thy walls and under.
Now the meeting steel first clashes,
Downward then the ladder crashes,
With its iron load all gleaming,
Lying at its foot blaspheming!
Up again! for every warrior
Slain, another climbs the barrier.
Thicker grows the strife: thy ditches
Europe's mingling gore enriches.
Rome! although thy wall may perish,
Such manure thy fields will cherish,
Making gay the harvest-home;
But thy hearths, alas! oh, Rome!-
Yet be Rome amidst thine anguish,
Fight as thou wast wont to vanquish!
VIII.
Yet once more, ye old Penates!
Let not your quenched hearts be Ates!
Yet again, ye shadowy Heroes,
Yield not to these stranger Neros!
Though the son who slew his mother
Shed Rome's blood, he was your brother:
'Twas the Roman curbed the Roman;-
Brennus was a baffled foeman.
Yet again, ye saints and martyrs,
Rise! for yours are holier charters!
Mighty Gods of temples falling,
Yet in ruin still appalling!
Mightier Founders of those altars,
True and Christian,-strike the assaulters!
Tiber! Tiber! let thy torrent
Show even Nature 's self abhorrent.
Let each breathing heart dilated
Turn, as doth the lion baited!
Rome be crushed to one wide tomb,
But be still the Roman's Rome!
[Bourbon, Arnold, Caesar, and others, arrive at the foot of the wall. Arnold is about to plant his ladder.
Bourb.
Hold, Arnold! I am first.
Arn.
Not so, my Lord.
Bourb.
Hold, sir, I charge you! Follow! I am proud
Of such a follower, but will brook no leader.
[Bourbon plants his ladder, and begins to moust.
Now, boys! On! on!
[A shot strikes him, and Bourbon falls.
Caes.
And off!
Arn.
Eternal powers!
The host will be appalled,-but vengeance! vengeance!
Bourb.
'Tis nothing-lend me your hand.
[Bourbon takes Arnold by the hand, and rises; but as he puts his foot on the step, falls again.
Arnold! I am sped.
Conceal my fall-all will go well-conceal it!
Fling my cloak o'er what will be dust anon;
Let not the soldiers see it.
Arn.
You must be
Removed; the aid of-
Bourb.
No, my gallant boy!
Death is upon me. But what is one life?
The Bourbon's spirit shall command them still.
Keep them yet ignorant that I am but clay,
Till they are conquerors-then do as you may.
Caes.
Would not your Highness choose to kiss the cross?
We have no priest here, but the hilt of sword
May serve instead:-it did the same for Bayard.
Bourb.
Thou bitter slave! to name him at this time!
But I deserve it.
Arn. (to Caesar).
Villain, hold your peace!
Caes.
What, when a Christian dies? Shall I not offer
A Christian "Vade in pace?"
Arn.
Silence! Oh!
Those eyes are glazing which o'erlooked the world,
And saw no equal.
Bourb.
Arnold, shouldst thou see
France-But hark! hark! the assault grows warmer-Oh!
For but an hour, a minute more of life,
To die within the wall! Hence, Arnold, hence!
You lose time-they will conquer Rome without thee.
Arn.
And without thee.
Bourb.
Not so; I'll lead them still
In spirit. Cover up my dust, and breathe not
That I have ceased to breathe. Away! and be
Victorious.
Arn.
But I must not leave thee thus.
Bourb.
You must-farewell-Up! up! the world is winning.
[Bourbon dies.
Caes. (to Arnold).
Come, Count, to business.
Arn.
True. I'll weep hereafter.
[Arnold covers Bourbon's body with a mantle, mounts the ladder, crying
The Bourbon! Bourbon! On, boys! Rome is ours!
Caes.
Good night, Lord Constable! thou wert a Man.
[Caesar follows Arnold; they reach the battlement; Arnold and Caesar are struck down.
Caes.
A precious somerset! Is your countship injured?
Arn.
No.
[Remounts the ladder.
Caes.
A rare blood-hound, when his own is heated!
And 'tis no boy's play. Now he strikes them down!
His hand is on the battlement-he grasps it
As though it were an altar; now his foot
Is on it, and-What have we here?-a Roman?
The first bird of the covey! he has fallen
[A man falls.
On the outside of the nest. Why, how now, fellow?
Wounded Man.
A drop of water!
Caes.
Blood's the only liquid
Nearer than Tiber.
Wounded Man.
I have died for Rome.
[Dies.
Caes.
And so did Bourbon, in another sense.
Oh, these immortal men! and their great motives!
But I must after my young charge. He is
By this time i' the Forum. Charge! charge!
[Caesar mounts the ladder; the scene closes.
Scene II.
-The City.-Combats between the Besiegers and Besieged in the streets. Inhabitants flying in confusion.
Enter Caesar.
Caes.
I cannot find my hero; he is mixed
With the heroic crowd that now pursue
The fugitives, or battle with the desperate.
What have we here? A Cardinal or two
That do not seem in love with martyrdom.
How the old red-shanks scamper! Could they doff
Their hose as they have doffed their hats, 'twould be
A blessing, as a mark the less for plunder.
But let them fly; the crimson kennels now
Will not much stain their stockings, since the mire
Is of the self-same purple hue.
Enter a Party fighting-Arnold at the head of the Besiegers.
He comes,
Hand in hand with the mild twins-Gore and Glory.
Holla! hold, Count!
Arn.
Away! they must not rally.
Caes.
I tell thee, be not rash; a golden bridge
Is for a flying enemy. I gave thee
A form of beauty, and an
Exemption from some maladies of body,
But not of mind, which is not mine to give.
But though I gave the form of Thetis' son,
I dipped thee not in Styx; and 'gainst a foe
I would not warrant thy chivalric heart
More than Pelides; heel; why, then, be cautious,
And know thyself a mortal still.
Arn.
And who
With aught of soul would combat if he were
Invulnerable? That were pretty sport.
Think'st thou I beat for hares when lions roar?
[Arnold rushes into the combat.
Caes.
A precious sample of humanity!
Well, his blood's up; and, if a little 's shed,
'Twill serve to curb his fever.
[Arnold engages with a Roman, who retires towards a portico.
Arn.
Yield thee, slave!
I promise quarter.
Rom.
That's soon said.
Arn.
And done-
My word is known.
Rom.
So shall be my deeds.
[They re-engage. Caesar comes forward.
Caes.
Why, Arnold! hold thine own: thou hast in hand
A famous artisan, a cunning sculptor;
Also a dealer in the sword and dagger.
Not so, my musqueteer; 'twas he who slew
The Bourbon from the wall.
Arn.
Aye, did he so?
Then he hath carved his monument.
Rom.
I yet
May live to carve your better's.
Caes.
Well said, my man of marble! Benvenuto,
Thou hast some practice in both ways; and he
Who slays Cellini will have worked as hard
As e'er thou didst upon Carrara's blocks.
[Arnold disarms and wounds Cellini, but slightly: the latter draws a pistol, and fires; then retires, and disappears through the portico.
Caes.
How farest thou? Thou hast a taste, methinks,
Of red Bellona's banquet.
Arn. (staggers).
'Tis a scratch.
Lend me thy scarf. He shall not 'scape me thus.
Caes.
Where is it?
Arn.
In the shoulder, not the sword arm-
And that 's enough. I am thirsty: would I had
A helm of water!
Caes.
That's a liquid now
In requisition, but by no means easiest
To come at.
Arn.
And my thirst increases;-but
I'll find a way to quench it.
Caes.
Or be quenched
Thyself.
Arn.
The chance is even; we will throw
The dice thereon. But I lose time in prating;
Prithee be quick.
[Caesar binds on the scarf.
And what dost thou so idly?
Why dost not strike?
Caes.
Your old philosophers
Beheld mankind, as mere spectators of
The Olympic games. When I behold a prize
Worth wrestling for, I may be found a Milo.
Arn.
Aye, 'gainst an oak.
Caes.
A forest, when it suits me:
I combat with a mass, or not at all.
Meantime, pursue thy sport as I do mine;
Which is just now to gaze, since all these labourers
Will reap my harvest gratis.
Arn.
Thou art still
A fiend!
Caes.
And thou-a man.
Arn.
Why, such I fain would show me.
Caes.
True-as men are.
Arn.
And what is that?
Caes.
Thou feelest and thou see'st.
[Exit Arnold, joining in the combat which still continues between detached parties. The scene closes.
Scene III.
-St. Peter's-The interior of the Church-The Pope at the Altar-Priests, etc., crowding in confusion, and Citizens flying for refuge, pursued by Soldiery.
Enter Caesar.
A Spanish Soldier.
Down with them, comrades, seize upon those lamps!
Cleave yon bald-pated shaveling to the chine!
His rosary 's of gold!
Lutheran Soldier.
Revenge! revenge!
Plunder hereafter, but for vengeance now-
Yonder stands Anti-Christ!
Caes. (interposing).
How now, schismatic?
What wouldst thou?
Luth. Sold.
In the holy name of Christ,
Destroy proud Anti-Christ. I am a Christian.
Caes.
Yea, a disciple that would make the founder
Of your belief renounce it, could he see
Such proselytes. Best stint thyself to plunder.
Luth. Sold.
I say he is the Devil.
Caes.
Hush! keep that secret,
Lest he should recognise you for his own.
Luth. Sold.
Why would you save him? I repeat he is
The Devil, or the Devil's vicar upon earth.
Caes.
And that's the reason: would you make a quarrel
With your best friends? You had far best be quiet;
His hour is not yet come.
Luth. Sold.
That shall be seen!
[The Lutheran Soldier rushes forward: a shot strikes him from one of the Pope's Guards, and he falls at the foot of the Altar.
Caes. (to the Lutheran).
I told you so.
Luth. Sold.
And will you not avenge me?
Caes.
Not I! You know that "Vengeance is the Lord's:"
You see he loves no interlopers.
Luth. Sold. (dying).
Oh!
Had I but slain him, I had gone on high,
Crowned with eternal glory! Heaven, forgive
My feebleness of arm that reached him not,
And take thy servant to thy mercy. 'Tis
A glorious triumph still; proud Babylon 's
No more; the Harlot of the Seven Hills
Hath changed her scarlet raiment for sackcloth
And ashes!
[The Lutheran dies.
Caes.
Yes, thine own amidst the rest.
Well done, old Babel!
[The Guards defend themselves desperately, while the Pontiff escapes, by a private passage, to the Vatican and the Castle of St. Angelo.
Caes.
Ha! right nobly battled!
Now, priest! now, soldier! the two great professions,
Together by the ears and hearts! I have not
Seen a more comic pantomime since Titus
Took Jewry. But the Romans had the best then;
Now they must take their turn.
Soldiers.
He hath escaped!
Follow!
Another Sold.
They have barred the narrow passage up,
And it is clogged with dead even to the door.
Caes.
I am glad he hath escaped: he may thank me for't
In part. I would not have his bulls abolished-
'Twere worth one half our empire: his indulgences
Demand some in return; no, no, he must not
Fall;-and besides, his now escape may furnish
A future miracle, in future proof
Of his infallibility.
[To the Spanish Soldiery.
Well, cut-throats!
What do you pause for? If you make not haste,
There will not be a link of pious gold left.
And you, too, Catholics! Would ye return
From such a pilgrimage without a relic?
The very Lutherans have more true devotion:
See how they strip the shrines!
Soldiers.
By holy Peter!
He speaks the truth; the heretics will bear
The best away.
Caes.
And that were shame! Go to!
Assist in their conversion.
[The Soldiers disperse; many quit the Church, others enter.
Caes.
They are gone,
And others come: so flows the wave on wave
Of what these creatures call Eternity,
Deeming themselves the breakers of the Ocean,
While they are but its bubbles, ignorant
That foam is their foundation. So, another!
Enter Olimpia, flying from the pursuit-She springs upon the Altar.
Sold.
She's mine!
Another Sold. (opposing the former).
You lie, I tracked her first: and were she
The Pope's niece, I'll not yield her.
[They fight.
3d Sold. (advancing towards Olimpia).
You may settle
Your claims; I'll make mine good.
Olimp.
Infernal slave!
You touch me not alive.
3d Sold.
Alive or dead!
Olimp. (embracing a massive crucifix).
Respect your God!
3d Sold.
Yes, when he shines in gold.
Girl, you but grasp your dowry.
[As he advances, Olimpia, with a strong and sudden effort, casts down the crucifix; it strikes the Soldier, who falls.
3d Sold.
Oh, great God!
Olimp.
Ah! now you recognise him.
3d Sold.
My brain 's crushed!
Comrades, help, ho! All's darkness!
[He dies.
Other Soldiers (coming up).
Slay her, although she had a thousand lives:
She hath killed our comrade.
Olimp.
Welcome such a death!
You have no life to give, which the worst slave
Would take. Great God! through thy redeeming Son,
And thy Son's Mother, now receive me as
I would approach thee, worthy her, and him, and thee!
Enter Arnold.
Arn.
What do I see? Accursed jackals!
Forbear!
Caes. (aside and laughing).
Ha! ha! here 's equity! The dogs
Have as much right as he. But to the issue!
Soldiers.
Count, she hath slain our comrade.
Arn.
With what weapon?
Sold.
The cross, beneath which he is crushed; behold him
Lie there, more like a worm than man; she cast it
Upon his head.
Arn.
Even so: there is a woman
Worthy a brave man's liking. Were ye such,
Ye would have honoured her. But get ye hence,
And thank your meanness, other God you have none,
For your existence. Had you touched a hair
Of those dishevelled locks, I would have thinned
Your ranks more than the enemy. Away!
Ye jackals! gnaw the bones the lion leaves,
But not even these till he permits.
A Sold. (murmuring).
The lion
Might conquer for himself then.
Arn. (cuts him down).
Mutineer!
Rebel in hell-you shall obey on earth!
[The Soldiers assault Arnold.
Arn.
Come on! I'm glad on't! I will show you, slaves,
How you should be commanded, and who led you
First o'er the wall you were so shy to scale,
Until I waved my banners from its height,
As you are bold within it.
[Arnold mows down the foremost; the rest throw down their arms.
Soldiers.
Mercy! mercy!
Arn.
Then learn to grant it. Have I taught you who
Led you o'er Rome's eternal battlements?
Soldiers.
We saw it, and we know it; yet forgive
A moment's error in the heat of conquest-
The conquest which you led to.
Arn.
Get you hence!
Hence to your quarters! you will find them fixed
In the Colonna palace.
Olimp. (aside).
In my father's
House!
Arn. (to the Soldiers).
Leave your arms; ye have no further need
Of such: the city 's rendered. And mark well
You keep your hands clean, or I'll find out a stream
As red as Tiber now runs, for your baptism.
Soldiers (deposing their arms and departing).
We obey!
Arn. (to Olimpia).
Lady, you are safe.
Olimp.
I should be so,
Had I a knife even; but it matters not-
Death hath a thousand gates; and on the marble,
Even at the altar foot, whence I look down
Upon destruction, shall my head be dashed,
Ere thou ascend it. God forgive thee, man!
Arn.
I wish to merit his forgiveness, and
Thine own, although I have not injured thee.
Olimp.
No! Thou hast only sacked my native land,-
No injury!-and made my father's house
A den of thieves! No injury!-this temple-
Slippery with Roman and with holy gore!
No injury! And now thou wouldst preserve me,
To be-but that shall never be!
[She raises her eyes to Heaven, folds her robe round her, and prepares to dash herself down on the side of the Altar opposite to that where Arnold stands.
Arn.
Hold! hold!
I swear.
Olimp.
Spare thine already forfeit soul
A perjury for which even Hell would loathe thee.
I know thee.
Arn.
No, thou know'st me not; I am not
Of these men, though-
Olimp.
I judge thee by thy mates;
It is for God to judge thee as thou art.
I see thee purple with the blood of Rome;
Take mine, 'tis all thou e'er shalt have of me,
And here, upon the marble of this temple,
Where the baptismal font baptized me God's,
I offer him a blood less holy
But not less pure (pure as it left me then,
A redeemed infant) than the holy water
The saints have sanctified!
[Olimpia waves her hand to Arnold with disdain, and dashes herself on the pavement from the Altar.
Arn.
Eternal God!
I feel thee now! Help! help! she's gone.
Caes. (approaches).
I am here.
Arn.
Thou! but oh, save her!
Caes. (assisting him to raise Olimpia).
She hath done it well!
The leap was serious.
Arn.
Oh! she is lifeless!
Caes.
If
She be so, I have nought to do with that:
The resurrection is beyond me.
Arn.
Slave!
Caes.
Aye, slave or master, 'tis all one: methinks
Good words, however, are as well at times.
Arn.
Words!-Canst thou aid her?
Caes.
I will try. A sprinkling
Of that same holy water may be useful.
[He brings some in his helmet from the font.
Arn.
'Tis mixed with blood.
Caes.
There is no cleaner now
In Rome.
Arn.
How pale! how beautiful! how lifeless!
Alive or dead, thou Essence of all Beauty,
I love but thee!
Caes.
Even so Achilles loved
Penthesilea; with his form it seems
You have his heart, and yet it was no soft one.
Arn.
She breathes! But no, 'twas nothing, or the last
Faint flutter Life disputes with Death.
Caes.
She breathes.
Arn.
Thou say'st it? Then 'tis truth.
Caes.
You do me right-
The Devil speaks truth much oftener than he's deemed:
He hath an ignorant audience.
Arn. (without attending to him).
Yes! her heart beats.
Alas! that the first beat of the only heart
I ever wished to beat with mine should vibrate
To an assassin's pulse.
Caes.
A sage reflection,
But somewhat late i' the day. Where shall we bear her?
I say she lives.
Arn.
And will she live?
Caes.
As much
As dust can.
Arn.
Then she is dead!
Caes.
Bah! bah! You are so,
And do not know it. She will come to life-
Such as you think so, such as you now are;
But we must work by human means.
Arn.
We will
Convey her unto the Colonna palace,
Where I have pitched my banner.
Caes.
Come then! raise her up!
Arn.
Softly!
Caes.
As softly as they bear the dead,
Perhaps because they cannot feel the jolting.
Arn.
But doth she live indeed?
Caes.
Nay, never fear!
But, if you rue it after, blame not me.
Arn.
Let her but live!
Caes.
The Spirit of her life
Is yet within her breast, and may revive.
Count! count! I am your servant in all things,
And this is a new office:-'tis not oft
I am employed in such; but you perceive
How staunch a friend is what you call a fiend.
On earth you have often only fiends for friends;
Now I desert not mine. Soft! bear her hence,
The beautiful half-clay, and nearly spirit!
I am almost enamoured of her, as
Of old the Angels of her earliest sex.
Arn.
Thou!
Caes.
I! But fear not. I'll not be your rival.
Arn.
Rival!
Caes.
I could be one right formidable;
But since I slew the seven husbands of
Tobias' future bride (and after all
Was smoked out by some incense), I have laid
Aside intrigue: 'tis rarely worth the trouble
Of gaining, or-what is more difficult-
Getting rid of your prize again; for there's
The rub! at least to mortals.
Arn.
Prithee, peace!
Softly! methinks her lips move, her eyes open!
Caes.
Like stars, no doubt; for that 's a metaphor
For Lucifer and Venus.
Arn.
To the palace
Colonna, as I told you!
Caes.
Oh! I know
My way through Rome.
Arn.
Now onward, onward! Gently!
[Exeunt, bearing Olimpia. The scene closes.
PART III.
Scene I.
-A Castle in the Apennines, surrounded by a wild but smiling Country. Chorus of Peasants singing before the Gates.
Chorus.
I.
The wars are over,
The spring is come;
The bride and her lover
Have sought their home:
They are happy, we rejoice;
Let their hearts have an echo in every voice!
II.
The spring is come; the violet 's gone,
The first-born child of the early sun:
With us she is but a winter's flower,
The snow on the hills cannot blast her bower,
And she lifts up her dewy eye of blue
To the youngest sky of the self-same hue.
III.
And when the spring comes with her host
Of flowers, that flower beloved the most
Shrinks from the crowd that may confuse
Her heavenly odour and virgin hues.
IV.
Pluck the others, but still remember
Their herald out of dim December-
The morning star of all the flowers,
The pledge of daylight's lengthened hours;
Nor, midst the roses, e'er forget
The virgin-virgin Violet.
Enter Caesar.
Caes. (singing).
The wars are all over,
Our swords are all idle,
The steed bites the bridle,
The casque 's on the wall.
There 's rest for the rover;
But his armour is rusty,
And the veteran grows crusty,
As he yawns in the hall.
He drinks-but what 's drinking?
A mere pause from thinking!
No bugle awakes him with life-and-death call.
Chorus.
But the hound bayeth loudly,
The boar 's in the wood,
And the falcon longs proudly
To spring from her hood:
On the wrist of the noble
She sits like a crest,
And the air is in trouble
With birds from their nest.
Caes.
Oh! shadow of Glory!
Dim image of War!
But the chase hath no story,
Her hero no star,
Since Nimrod, the founder
Of empire and chase,
Who made the woods wonder
And quake for their race.
When the lion was young,
In the pride of his might,
Then 'twas sport for the strong
To embrace him in fight;
To go forth, with a pine
For a spear, 'gainst the mammoth,
Or strike through the ravine
At the foaming behemoth;
While man was in stature
As towers in our time,
The first born of Nature,
And, like her, sublime!
Chorus.
But the wars are over,
The spring is come;
The bride and her lover
Have sought their home:
They are happy, and we rejoice;
Let their hearts have an echo from every voice!
[Exeunt the Peasantry, singing.
FRAGMENT OF THE THIRD PART
Chorus.
When the merry bells are ringing,
And the peasant girls are singing,
And the early flowers are flinging
Their odours in the air;
And the honey bee is clinging
To the buds; and birds are winging
Their way, pair by pair:
Then the earth looks free from trouble
With the brightness of a bubble:
Though I did not make it,
I could breathe on and break it;
But too much I scorn it,
Or else I would mourn it,
To see despots and slaves
Playing o'er their own graves.
Enter Count Arnold.
Arnold.
You are merry, Sir-what? singing too?
Caesar.
It is
The land of Song-and Canticles you know
Were once my avocation.
Arn.
Nothing moves you;
You scoff even at your own calamity-
And such calamity! how wert thou fallen
Son of the Morning! and yet Lucifer
Can smile.
Caes.
His shape can-would you have me weep,
In the fair form I wear, to please you?
Arn.
Ah!
Caes.
You are grave-what have you on your spirit!
Arn.
Nothing.
Caes.
How mortals lie by instinct! If you ask
A disappointed courtier-What's the matter?
"Nothing"-an outshone Beauty what has made
Her smooth brow crisp-"Oh, Nothing!"-a young heir
When his Sire has recovered from the Gout,
What ails him? "Nothing!" or a Monarch who
Has heard the truth, and looks imperial on it-
What clouds his royal aspect? "Nothing," "Nothing!"
Nothing-eternal nothing-of these nothings
All are a lie-for all to them are much!
And they themselves alone the real "Nothings."
Your present Nothing, too, is something to you-
What is it?
Arn.
Know you not?
Caes.
I only know
What I desire to know! and will not waste
Omniscience upon phantoms. Out with it!
If you seek aid from me-or else be silent.
And eat your thoughts-till they breed snakes within you.
Arn.
Olimpia!
Caes.
I thought as much-go on.
Arn.
I thought she had loved me.
Caes.
Blessings on your Creed!
What a good Christian you were found to be!
But what cold Sceptic hath appalled your faith
And transubstantiated to crumbs again
The body of your Credence?
Arn.
No one-but-
Each day-each hour-each minute shows me more
And more she loves me not-
Caes.
Doth she rebel?
Arn.
No, she is calm, and meek, and silent with me,
And coldly dutiful, and proudly patient-
Endures my Love-not meets it.
Caes.
That seems strange.
You are beautiful and brave! the first is much
For passion-and the rest for Vanity.
Arn.
I saved her life, too; and her Father's life,
And Father's house from ashes.
Caes.
These are nothing.
You seek for Gratitude-the Philosopher's stone.
Arn.
And find it not.
Caes.
You cannot find what is not.
But found would it content you? would you owe
To thankfulness what you desire from Passion?
No! No! you would be loved-what you call loved-
Self-loved-loved for yourself-for neither health,
Nor wealth, nor youth, nor power, nor rank, nor beauty-
For these you may be stript of-but beloved
As an abstraction-for-you know not what!
These are the wishes of a moderate lover-
And so you love.
Arn.
Ah! could I be beloved,
Would I ask wherefore?
Caes.
Yes! and not believe
The answer-You are jealous.
Arn.
And of whom?
Caes.
It may be of yourself, for Jealousy
Is as a shadow of the Sun. The Orb
Is mighty-as you mortals deem-and to
Your little Universe seems universal;
But, great as He appears, and is to you,
The smallest cloud-the slightest vapour of
Your humid earth enables you to look
Upon a Sky which you revile as dull;
Though your eyes dare not gaze on it when cloudless.
Nothing can blind a mortal like to light.
Now Love in you is as the Sun-a thing
Beyond you-and your Jealousy 's of Earth-
A cloud of your own raising.
Arn.
Not so always!
There is a cause at times.
Caes.
Oh, yes! when atoms jostle,
The System is in peril. But I speak
Of things you know not. Well, to earth again!
This precious thing of dust-this bright Olimpia-
This marvellous Virgin, is a marble maid-
An Idol, but a cold one to your heat
Promethean, and unkindled by your torch.
Arn.
Slave!
Caes.
In the victor's Chariot, when Rome triumphed,
There was a Slave of yore to tell him truth!
You are a Conqueror-command your Slave.
Arn.
Teach me the way to win the woman's love.
Caes.
Leave her.
Arn.
Where that the path-I'd not pursue it.
Caes.
No doubt! for if you did, the remedy
Would be for a disease already cured.
Arn.
All wretched as I am, I would not quit
My unrequited love, for all that 's happy.
Caes.
You have possessed the woman-still possess.
What need you more?
Arn.
To be myself possessed -
To be her heart as she is mine.