suppose the singing-birds musicians, the grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd, the flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more than a delightful measure or a dance: for gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite the man that mocks at it and sets it light. Bol. O, who can hold a fire in his hand by thinking on the frosty Caucasus? or wallow naked in December snow W. SHAKESPEARE 982 SAPPHO HAUNT his midnight dreams, black Nemesis! of Chaos blackest Night long labouring bore, and gaily wanton o'er its heaving breast! Phœbus shines forth, nor wears one cloud to mourn One leap, and all is over. The deep rest R. SOUTHEY 983 REFLECTIONS on the murder of prince porREX BY HIS MOTHER VIDEN WHEN gredy lust in royall seate to reigne hath reft all care of goddes and eke of men, and cruell hart, wrath, treason and disdaine, within ambicious brest are lodged; then beholde how mischiefe wide her selfe displayes, and with the brother's hand the brother slayes. When bloud thus shed doth staine the heavens face, crying to Jove for vengeance of the deede, the mightie God even moveth from his place with wrath to wreke, then sendes he forth with spede the dreadfull furies, daughters of the night, with serpentes girt, carying the whip of ire, with heare of stinging snakes, and shining bright with flames and bloud, and with a brand of fire; these for revenge of wretched murder done, do make the mother kill her onely sonne. Bloud asketh bloud, and death must death requite: Jove by his just and everlasting dome justly hath ever so requited it. This times before recorde, and times to come O happie wight that suffres not the snare 984 Aul. Car. SACKVILLE AND NORTON THE AULUS DIDIUS-CARACTACUS HE morn doth hasten our departure: prepare thee, King, to go: a favouring gale now swells our sails. Inhuman that thou art! dost thou deny a moment for a father to shed a few warm tears o'er his dead son? than sorrow ever suffered. Cruel man! I know you Romans weep not for your children; Ah son! thou might'st have ruled o'er many nations, rash that I was, ne'er knew the golden curb had sued to him for peace, and claim'd his friendship. Aul. But thou wast still implacable to Rome, and scorned her friendship. Car. had neighing steeds to had wealth, dominion. Soldier, I had arms, whirl my iron cars, Doth thou wonder, Roman, I fought to save them? What, if Cæsar aims to lord it universal o'er the world, shall the world tamely crouch at Cæsar's footstool? Aul. Read in thy fate our answer. 985 W. MASON TITUS CONTEMPLATING JERUSALEM T must be IT and yet it moves me, Romans! it confounds that Ruin's merciless ploughshare must pass o'er, F. S. III 23 to the blue heavens. Here bright and sumptuous palaces, with cool and verdant gardens interspers'd; here towers of war that frown in massy strength: as conscious of its being her last farewell And, as our clouds of battle dust and smoke finding itself a solemn sanctuary in the profound of heaven! It stands before us, H. H. MILMAN 986 CARDINAL WOLSEY'S SPEECH TO CROMWELL C “ROMWELL, I did not think to shed a tear in all my miseries; but thou hast forced me, and sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, to silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Crom well, thou fall'st a blesséd martyr! Serve the king; and, prithee, lead me in: there take an inventory of all I have, to the last penny; 'tis the king's: my robe, and my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell! W. SHAKESPEARE 987 Ch. CHORUS OF DRUIDS-ARVIRAGUS UT tell us why thou fledst? Arv. I fled not, B Druid! by the great gods I fled not! save to stop our dastard troops, that basely turn'd their backs. I stopt, I rallied them, when lo a shaft of random cast did level me with earth, where, pale and senseless, as the slain around me, I lay till midnight: then, as from long trance awoke, I crawl'd upon my feeble limbs to a lone cottage, where a pitying hind lodg'd me and nourish'd me. My strength repair'd, I sold cheap food to slaves, that nam'd the price, yet not secure, I to some valiant chiefs, whom war had spar'd, discover'd what I was; in rough Caernarvon, there to breathe in freedom, |