Gi. So plenteous are the springs
of sorrows that increase my passion,
as neither reason can recure my smart,
nor can your care, nor fatherly comfort,
appease the stormy combats of my thoughts;
such is the sweet remembrance of his life.
Then give me leave, of pity, pity me;
and as I can I shall allay these griefs.
715 EDGAR'S ACCOUNT OF his discovering himself
TO HIS FATHER KING LEAR
IST a brief tale;
and, when 'tis told, O, that my heart would burst!the bloody proclamation to escape,
that follow'd me so near, (O, our lives' sweetness!
that we the pain of death would hourly die,
rather than die at once!) taught me to shift
into a madman's rags; to assume a semblance
that very dogs disdained: and in this habit
met I my father with his bleeding rings,
their precious stones new lost; became his guide,
led him, begg'd for him, sav'd him from despair;
never (O fault!) reveal'd myself unto him,
until some half hour past, when I was arm'd ;
not sure, though hoping, of this good success,
I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last
told him my pilgrimage: but his flaw'd heart,—
alack, too weak the conflict to support!-
'twixt too extremes of passion, joy and grief,
burst smilingly.
ARNOLD-STRANGER
The shade of Achilles arises
ONTENT I will fix here.
Arn. CONTENT
your choice. The godlike son of the sea-goddess,
the unshorn boy of Peleus, with his locks
as beautiful and clear as the amber waves
of rich Pactolus, rolled o'er sands of gold,
softened by intervening crystal, and
rippled like flowing waters by the wind,
all vowed to Sperchius as they were-behold them! and him as he stood by Polixena,
with sanctioned and with softened love, before
the altar, gazing on his Trojan bride,
with some remorse within for Hector slain
and Priam weeping, mingled with deep passion for the sweet downcast virgin, whose young hand trembled in his who slew her brother. So
he stood i' the temple! look upon him as
Greece looked her last upon her best, the instant ere Paris' arrow flew.
717 MEN'S GLories ECLIPSED WHEN THEY TURN
when the moon hath comforted the night,
and set the world in silver of her light,
the planets, asterisms, and whole State of Heaven,
in beams of gold descending: all the winds
bound up in caves, charg'd not to drive abroad
their cloudy heads: an universal peace
(proclaim'd in silence) of the quiet earth:
soon as her hot and dry fumes are let loose,
storms and clouds mixing suddenly put out
the eyes of all those glories; the creation
turn'd into Chaos; and we then desire,
for all our joy of life, the death of sleep.
So when the glories of our lives, (men's loves,
clear consciences, our fames and loyalties,)
that did us worthy comfort, are eclips'd:
grief and disgrace invade us; and for all
our night of life besides, our misery craves
dark earth would ope and hide us in our graves.
718 MELCHTAL TO WALTHER Fuerst and werner
OH, sage and reverend fathers of this land,
here do I stand before your riper years,
an unskilled youth, whose voice must in the Diet
still be subdued into respectful silence.
Do not, because that I am young, and want
experience, slight my counsel and my words.
'Tis not the wantonness of youthful blood
that fires my spirit; but a pang so deep
that e'en the flinty rocks must pity me.
You, too, are fathers, heads of families,
and you must wish to have a virtuous son,
to reverence your grey hairs, and shield your eyes
with pious and affectionate regard.
Do not, I pray, because in limb and fortune
you still are unassail'd, and still your eyes
revolve undimm'd and sparkling in their spheres;
oh, do not, therefore, disregard our wrongs!
above you, too, doth hang the tyrant's sword.
me, whom in their lays the shepherds call
Actæa, daughter of the neighbouring stream,
this cave belongs. The fig-tree and the vine,
which o'er the rocky entrance downward shoot,
were placed by Glycon. He with cowslips pale,
primrose, and purple lychnis, deck'd the green
before my threshold, and my shelving walls
with honeysuckle covered. Here at noon,
lull'd by the murmur of my rising fount,
I slumber; here my clustering fruits I tend;
or from the humid flowers, at break of day,
fresh garlands weave, and chace from all my bounds
each thing impure or noxious. Enter in,
O stranger, undismayed. Nor bat, nor toad
here lurks; and if thy breast of blameless thoughts
approve thee, not unwelcome shalt thou tread
my quiet mansions: chiefly, if thy name
wise Pallas and the immortal Muses own.
720 JOAN LA PUCELLE BEFORE THE DAUPHIN
AUPHIN, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter, my wit untrain'd in any kind of art.
Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'd
to shine on my contemptible estate:
lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs,
and to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks,
God's mother deignéd to appear to me;
and, in a vision full of majesty,
will'd me to leave my base vocation,
and free my country from calamity:
her aid she promis'd, and assur'd success:
in complete glory she reveal'd herself;
and, whereas I was black and swart before,
with those clear rays which she infused on me,
that beauty am I bless'd with, which you may see.
Ask me what question thou canst possible,
and I will answer unpremeditated:
my courage try by combat, if thou dar'st,
and thou shalt find that I exceed my sex.
721 JOAN LA PUCELLE TO THE DUKE OF YORK AND
FIRST, let me tell you whom you have condemn'd;
not one begotten of a shepherd swain,
but issu'd from the progeny of kings;
virtuous and holy: chosen from above,
by inspiration of celestial grace,
to work exceeding miracles on earth.
I never had to do with wicked spirits:
but you, that are polluted with your lusts,
stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents,
corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices,-
because you want the grace that others have,
you judge it straight a thing impossible
to compass wonders, but by help of devils.
No, misconceived! Joan of Arc hath been
a virgin from her tender infancy,
chaste and immaculate in very thought;
whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effus'd,
will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven.
JOAN OF ARC TO KING CHARLES
HARD by the village wherein I was born,
stands an old shrine, an image of our Lady,
by many a pious pilgrim visited;
and close beside it is a sacred oak
renowned for many miracles: and much
I loved to sit there and to tend my flock
under the shadow of the holy tree.
My heart still drew me there, and oftentimes,
if I had lost a lamb on the bleak mountains,
I saw it in my dreams when I lay down
and slept beneath the shadow of this tree.
And once, when I had spent a weary night
in lonely thought, and strove with drowsiness,
the Virgin suddenly appeared to me
bearing a sword and banner, in all else
a shepherdess like me; and thus she said;
'It is I; stand up, Johanna: leave thy flock;
for other work the Lord hath need of thee.'
Translated from SCHILLER
723 PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDe—his fareweLL TO GHENT
HEN fare ye well, ye citizens of Ghent!
this is the last time you will see me here,
unless God prosper me past human hope.
I thank you for the dutiful demeanour
which never-no not once-in any of you
have I found wanting, though severely tried
when discipline might seem without reward.
Fortune has not been kind to me, good friends;
but let not that deprive me of your loves,
or of your good report. Be this the word;
my rule was brief, calamitous-but just.
No glory which a prosperous fortune gilds,
if shorn of this addition, could suffice
to lift my heart so high as it is now.
This is that joy in which my soul is strong,
that there is not a man amongst you all,
who can reproach me that I used my power
to do him an injustice.
EVE'S FAREWELL TO PARADISE
UNEXPECTED stroke, worse than of Death! 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,
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