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I saw your Romulus (simple as I am) Slay his own twin, quick-born of the same womb,

Because he leapt a ditch ('twas then no wall, Whate'er it now be); and Rome's earliest cement

Was brother's blood; and if its native blood
Be spilt till the choked Tiber be as red
As e'er 'twas yellow, it will never wear
The deep hue of the Ocean and the Earth,
Which the great robber-sons of Fratricide
Have made their never-ceasing scene of

For ages.

Arnold. But what have these done, their far Remote descendants, who have lived in peace,

The peace of heaven, and in her sunshine of Piety?

Cæsar. And what had they done, whom the old

Romans o'erswept?—Hark!

Arnold. They are soldiers singing
A reckless roundelay, upon the eve
Of many deaths, it may be of their own.
Cæsar. And why should they not sing
as well as swans?

They are black ones, to be sure.
Arnold. So, you are learn'd,
I see, too.

Cæsar. In my grammar, certes. I
Was educated for a monk of all times,
And once I was well versed in the forgotten
Etruscan letters, and--were I so minded-
Could make their hieroglyphics plainer than
Your alphabet.

Arnold. And wherefore do you not?

Cæsar. It answers better to resolve the alphabet

Back into hieroglyphics. Like your states


And prophet, pontiff, doctor, alchymist, Philosopher, and what not, they have built More Babels without new dispersion, than The stammering young ones of the Flood's dull ooze,

Who failed and fled each other. Why? why, marry,

Because no man could understand his neighbour.

They are wiser now, and will not separate For nonsense. Nay, it is their brotherhood, Their Shibboleth,their Koran, Talmud, their Cabala; their best brick-work wherewithal

They build more— Arnold (interrupting him). Oh, thou everlasting sneerer!

Be silent! How the soldiers' rough strain


Softened by distance to a hymn-like cadence! Listen!

Cæsar. Yes. I have heard the Angels sing. Arnold. And Demons howl.

Cæsar. And Man too. Let us listen: I love all music.

Song of the Soldiers within.

The Black Bands came over

The Alps and their snow, With Bourbon, the rover,

They past the broad Po.
We have beaten all foemen,
We have captured a king,
We have turned back on no men,
And so let us sing!

Here's the Bourbon for ever!
Though penniless all,

We'll have one more endeavour
At yonder old wall.
With the Bourbon we'll gather
At day-dawn before
The gates, and together

Or break or climb o'er
The wall: on the ladder

As mounts each firm foot,
Our shout shall grow gladder,
And death only be mute.
With the Bourbon we'll mount o'er
The walls of old Rome,

And who then shall count o'er
The spoils of each dome?
Up! up! with the lily!

And down with the keys!
In old Rome, the Seven-hilly,
We'll revel at ease.
Her streets shall be gory,
Her Tiber all red,
And her temples so hoary

Shall clang with our tread.
Oh, the Bourbon! the Bourbon!
The Bourbon for aye!

Of our song bear the burthen!
And fire, fire away!
With Spain for the vanguard,
Our varied host comes?
And next to the Spaniard

Beat Germany's drums;
And Italy's lances

Are couched at their mother;
But our leader from France is,
Who warred with his brother.
Oh, the Bourbon! the Bourbon!
Sans country or home,
We'll follow the Bourbon,

To plunder old Rome.
Cæsar. An indifferent song

For those within the walls,methinks, to hear.
Arnold. Yes, if they keep to their chorus.
But here comes

The General with his chiefs and men of trust. A goodly rebel!

Enter the Constable BOURBON, cum suis. Philibert. How now, noble Prince, You are not cheerful?

Bourbon. Why should I be so?
Phil. Upon the eve of conquest, such

as ours,
Most men would be so.

Bourbon. If I were secure!

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girded in great ages, And sent forth mighty spirits. The past earth And present Phantom of imperious Rome Is peopled with those warriors; and methinks They flit along the eternal city's rampart, And stretch their glorious, gory, shadowy hands,

Bourbon. True: but those walls have Have never seen it.

Be so.

Bourbon. A thousand years have manned

the walls

With all their heroes,—the last Cato stands
And tears his bowels, rather than survive
The liberty of that I would enslave.
And the first Cæsar with his triumphs flits
From battlement to battlement.

Bourbon. Ah!
Welcome the bitter Hunchback! and his

The beauty of our host, and brave as beau-

And generous as lovely. We shall find
Work for you both ere morning.
Cæsar. You will find,

Phil. Then conquer

The walls for which he conquered, and be greater!

So please your Highness, no less for yourself. Bourbon. And if I do, there will not be a labourer

Bourbon. True: so I will, or perish.
Phil. You can not.

In such an enterprise to die is rather
The dawn of an eternal day, than death.
Count ARNOLD and CESAR advance.
Cæsar. And the mere men-do they too
sweat beneath
The noon of this same ever-scorching glory?

More forward, Hunchback!
Cæsar. You may well say so,

For you have seen that back-as general,
Placed in the rear in action-but your foes

And beckon me away!

Phil. So let them! Wilt thou
Turn back from shadowy menaces of sha-

Of your brave bands of their own bold accord
Will go to him, the other half be sent,
More swiftly, not less surely.
Bourbon. Arnold, your


Bourbon. They do not menace me. could have faced,

Methinks, a Sylla's menace; but they clasp
And raise, and wring their dim and death-
like hands,

Slight crooked friend's as snake-like in his
As his deeds.

And with their thin aspen faces and fixed eyes
Fascinate mine. Look there!
Phil. I look upon
A lofty battlement.
Bourbon. And there!
Phil. Not even

A guard in sight; they wisely keep below,
Sheltered by the grey parapet, from some
Stray bullet of our lansquenets, who might
Practise in the cool twilight.

Bourbon. You are blind.

Phil. If seeing nothing more than may be seen

Bourbon. That's a fair retort,

For I provoked it:-but the Bourbon's breast
Has been, and ever shall be, far advanced
In danger's face as yours, were you the Devil.
Cæsar. And if I were, I might have saved

The toil of coming here.

Phil. Why so?

Cæsar. One half

Casar. Your Highness much mistake me.
The first snake was a flatterer - I am none;
And for my deeds, I only sting when stung.
Bourbon. You are brave, and that's
enough for me; and quick

In speech as sharp in action – and that's more.
I am not alone a soldier, but the soldiers'

Casar. They are but bad company,
your Highness;

And worse even for their friends than foes, as being

More permanent acquaintance.
Phil. How now, fellow!

Thou waxest insolent, beyond the privilege
Of a buffoon.

Cæsar. You mean, I speak the truth. I'll lie-it is as easy: then you'll praise me For calling you a hero.

Bourbon. Philibert!

Let him alone; he's brave, and ever has Been first with that swart face and mountain-shoulder

In field or storm, and patient in starvation; And for his tongue, the camp is full of licence,

And the sharp stinging of a lively rogue
Is, to my mind, far preferable to
The gross, dull, heavy, gloomy execration
Of a mere famished,sullen,grumbling slave,
Whom nothing can convince save a full meal,
And wine, and sleep, and a few maravedis,
With which he deems him rich.

Cæsar. It would be well

If the Earth's princes asked no more,
Bourbon. Be silent!

Cæsar. Aye, but not idle. Work your-
self with words!

You have few to speak.

Phil. What means the audacious prater? Cæsar. To prate, like other prophets. Bourbon. Philibert!

Why will you vex him? Have we not enough To think on? Arnold! I will lead the attack To-morrow.

Arnold. I have heard as much, my Lord. Bourbon. And you will follow? Arnold. Since I must not lead.

Bourbon. Tis necessary for the further


Of our too needy army, that their chief Plant the first foot upon the foremost ladder's First step.

Cæsar. Upon its topmost, let us hope: So shall he have his full deserts.

Bourbon. The world's

Great capital perchance is ours to-morrow. Through every change the seven-hilled city hath

Retained her sway o'er nations, and the Cæsars

But yielded to the Alarics, the Alarics Unto the Pontiffs. Roman, Goth, or Priest, Still the world's masters! Civilized, Barbarian,

Or Saintly, still the walls of Romulus Have been the Circus of an Empire. Well! 'Twas their turn—now 'tis ours; and let us hope

That we will fight as well, and rule much better.

Cæsar. No doubt, the camp's the school
of civic rights.

What would you make of Rome?
Bourbon. That which it was.
Cæsar. In Alaric's time?

Bourbon. No, slave! In the first Cæsar's, Whose name yon bear like other curs. Cæsar. And kings.

Tis a great name for bloodhounds.
Bourbon. There's a demon

In that fierce rattle-snake, thy tongue.
Wilt never

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To be more pensive: we adventurers Must be more cheerful. Wherefore should we think?

Our tutelar deity, in a leader's shape, Takes care of us. Keep thought aloof from


If the knaves take to thinking, you will have To crack those walls alone.

Bourbon. You may sneer, since

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Good night!

Arnold (to Cæsar). Prepare our armour for the assault,

And wait within my tent.

[Exeunt Bourbon, Arnold, Philibert, etc. Cæsar (solus). Within thy tent! Thinkst thou that I pass from thee with my presence?

Or that this crooked coffer, which contained Thy principle of life, is aught to me Except a mask? And these are Men, forsooth! Heroes and chiefs, the flower of Adam's bastards!

This is the consequence of giving Matter The power of Thought. It is a stubborn substance,

And thinks chaotically, as it acts,
Ever relapsing into its first elements.
Well! I must play with these poor pup-
pets: 'tis

The Spirit's pastime in his idler hours.
When I grow weary of it, I have business
Amongst the stars, which these poor crea-
tures deem

Were made for them to look at. Twere

a jest now

To bring one down amongst them,and set fire Unto their ant-hill: how the pismires then Would scamper o'er the scalding soil, and,


From tearing down each others' nests, pipo forth One universal orison! Ha! ha!


[Exit Cæsar.

SCENE I.-Before the Walls of Rome. The
assault; the army in motion, with ladders
to scale the walls; BOURBON, with a white
scarf over his armour, foremost.

Chorus of Spirits in the air.
Tis the morn, but dim and dark.
Whither flies the silent lark?
Whither shrinks the clouded sun?

'Tis lucky for you that you fight no worse Is the day indeed begun?


Nature's eye is melancholy

O'er the city high and holy:
But without there is a din
Should arouse the Saints within,
And revive the heroic ashes
Round which yellow Tiber dashes.
Oh ye seven hills! awaken,
Ere your very base be shaken!

Hearken to the steady stamp!
Mars is in their every tramp!
Not a step is out of tune,
As the tides obey the moon!
On they march, though to self-slanghter,
Regular as rolling water,
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.

Look upon the bristling wall,
Mann'd without an interval!
Round and round, and tier on tier,
Cannon's black mouth, shining spear,
Lit match, bell-mouth'd musquetoon,
Gaping to be murderous soon.
All the warlike gear of old,
Mix'd 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?

Near-and near-nearer still,
As the earthquake saps the hill,
First with trembling, hollow motion,
Like a scarce-awaken'd ocean,
Then with stronger shock and louder,
Till the rocks are crush'd 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 wept o'er Carthage burning,
Weep not-strike! for Rome is mourning!

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,
Match'd with Bourbon's black banditti !
Rouse thee, thou eternal City!

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Now they reach thee in their anger:
Fire, and smoke, and hellish clangor
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 ion 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!

Yet once more, ye old Penates!
Let not your quenched hearths be Ate's!
Yet again, ye shadowy heroes,
Yield not to these stranger Neroes!
Though the Son who slew his mother,
Shed Rome's blood, he was your brother:
'Twas the Roman curb'd 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 crush'd to one wide tomb,
But be still the Roman's Rome!
arrive at the foot of the wall. ARNOLD is
about to plant his ladder.
Bourbon. Hold, Arnold: I am first
Arnold. Not so, my Lord.

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Fling my cloak o'er what will be dust anon; Is on it, and-What have we here, a Roman? Let not the soldiers see it.

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Bourbon. 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.

Arnold. And without thee!

Bourbon. 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

Arnold. But I must not leave thee thus.
Bourbon. You must-farewell-Up! up!

the world is winning. [Bourbon dies. Casar (to Arnold). Come, Count, to business.

[A man falls. The first bird of the covey! he has fall'n On the outside of the nest. Why, how now, fellow?

The wounded Man. A drop of water! Cæsar. Blood's the only liquid

Nearer than Tiber..

Wounded Man. I have died for Rome.

[Dies. Cæsar. And so did Bourbon, in another

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