English

PART III .

Though to the Pagan priesthood
A triumph this might seem,
Few families there were who thus
Could in their grief misdeem;
For, oft in those distracted days,
Parent and child went different ways,
The sister and the brother;
And when, in spirit moved, the wife
Chose one religious course of life,
The husband took the other.

Therefore in every household

PART II .

A voice was heard in Antioch,
Whence uttered none could know;
But from their sleep it wakened all,
Proclaiming, Woe, woe, woe!
It sounded here, it sounded there,
Within, without, and every where,
A terror and a warning;
Repeated thrice the dreadful word
By every living soul was heard
Before the hour of morning.

And in the air a rushing
Past over, in the night;
And as it past, there past with it
A meteoric light;
The blind that piercing light intense

PARTI .

Pithyran was a Pagan,
An easy-hearted man,
And Pagan sure he thought to end,
As Pagan he began;
Thought he, the one must needs be true,
The old Religion, or the new,
And therefore nothing care I;
I call Diana the Divine;
My daughter worships at the shrine
Of the Christian Goddess, Mary.

In this uncertain matter
If I the wrong course take,
Mary to me will mercy show
For my Marana's sake.
If I am right, and Dian bend
Her dreadful bow, or Phaebus send
His shafts abroad for slaughter,

Scene. The House of Collatine .

Welcome, my father! good Valerius,
Welcome! and thou too, Brutus! ye were both
My wedding guests, and fitly ye are come.
My husband — Collatine — alas! no more
Lucretia's husband, for thou shalt not clasp
Pollution to thy bosom, — hear me on!
For I must tell thee all.
I sat at eve
Spinning amid my maidens as I wont,
When from the camp at Ardea Sextus came,
Curb down thy swelling feelings, Collatine!
I little liked the man! yet, for he came
From Ardea, for he brought me news of thee,

Scene . The Palace Court. The Queen speaking from the Battlements .

Cease — cease your torments! spare the sufferers
Scotchmen, not theirs the deed; — the crime was mine.
Mine is the glory.
Idle threats! I stand
Secure. All access to these battlements
Is barr'd beyond your sudden strength to force;
And lo! the dagger by which Fergus died!

Shame on ye, Scotchmen, that a woman's hand
Was left to do this deed! Shame on ye, Thanes,
Who with slave-patience have so long endured

SCENE . The Temple of Mexitli .

Subjects ! friends! children! I may call you children,
For I have ever borne a father's love
Towards you; it is thirteen years since first
You saw me in the robes of royalty, —
Since here the multitudes of Mexico
Hail'd me their King. I thank you, friends, that now,
In equal numbers and with equal love,
You come to grace my death.
For thirteen years
What I have been, ye know; that with all care,

SAPPHO .

Scene . The Promontory of Leucudia .

This is the spot: — 'tis here, tradition says,
That hopeless Love from this high, towering rock
Leaps headlong to oblivion or to death.
Oh, 'tis a giddy height! my dizzy head
Swims at the precipice! — 'tis death to fall!

Lie still, thou coward heart! this is no time
To shake with thy strong throbs the frame convulsed.
To die, — to be at rest, — oh, pleasant thought!
Perchance to leap and live; the soul all still,
And the wild tempest of the passions husht

Time, Night . Scene, The Woods .

Where shall I turn me? whither shall I bend
My weary way? thus worn with toil and faint,
How through the thorny mazes of this wood
Attain my distant dwelling? That deep cry
That echoes through the forest, seems to sound
My parting knell: it is the midnight how!
Of hungry monsters prowling for their prey!
Again! O save me — save me, gracious Heaven!
I am not fit to die!
Thou coward wretch,
Why palpitates thy heart? why shake thy limbs
Beneath their palsied burden? Is there aught

TIME , Evening .

JOHN .

'T IS a calm, pleasant evening; the light fades away,
And the sun going down has done watch for the day.
To my mind we live wondrous well when transported;
It is but to work, and we must be supported.
Fill the can, Dick! Success here to Botany Bay!

RICHARD .

Success, if you will, — but God send me away!

JOHN .

TIME , Noon .

HUMPHREY .

S EE'ST thou not, William, that the scorching sun
By this time half his daily race hath run?
The savage thrusts his light canoe to shore,
And hurries homeward with his fishy store.
Suppose we leave awhile this stubborn soil,
To eat our dinner and to rest from toil.

WILLIAM .

Agreed. Yon tree, whose purple gum bestows
A ready medicine for the sick man's woes,