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As the Being who made him,
Of blood take the guise!
As thou wavest in air!
And drank the best dew!
Which clay can compound!
Be mingled and stirred,
This earth's animation!
Arnold (in his new form). I love, and I shall be beloved! Oh life!
At last I feel thee! Glorious spirit!
Your hump, and lump, and clod of ugliness, Which late you wore, or were?
Arnold. Who cares! Let wolves And vultures take it, if they will. Stranger. And if
They do, and are not scared by it, you'll say It must be peace-time, and no better fare Abroad i' the fields.
Arnold. Let us but leave it there, No matter what becomes on't.
Stranger. That's ungracious,
If not ungrateful. Whatsoe'er it be,
ceal a gem Which is now set in gold,as jewels should be. Stranger. But if I give another form, it
By fair exchange, not robbery. For they
Who make men without women's aid, have long
Had patents for the same, and do not love Your interlopers. The devil may take men, Not make them,-though he reap the benefit Of the original workmanship:—and therefore
Some one must be found to assume the shape
Arnold. Who would do so?
Stranger. I said it ere
You inhabited your present dome of beauty. Arnold. True. I forget all things in the new joy
Of this immortal change.
Stranger. In a few moments
I will be as you were, and you shall see Yourself for ever by you, as your shadow. Arnold. I would be spared this. Stranger. But it cannot be.
What! shrink already, being what you are, From seeing what you were?
Arnold. Do as thou wilt.
Stranger (to the late form of Arnold, ex-
Clay! not dead, but soul-less!
Designs not to refuse thee.
Fire! without which nought can live;
Save the fabled salamander,
Burning in a quenchless lot:
Where nor fish, beast, bird, nor worm, Save the worm which dieth not, Can preserve a moment's form, But must with thyself be blent: Fire! man's safeguard and his slaughter: Fire! Creation's first-born daughter,
And Destruction's threatened son, When Heaven with the world hath done: Fire! assist me to renew
Life in what lies in my view
Stiff and cold!
His resurrection rests with me and you!
An Ignis-fatuus flits through the wood, and rests on the brow of the body. The Stranger disappears: the body rises. Arnold (in his new form). Oh! horrible ! Stranger (in Arnold's late shape). What! tremblest thou?
Arnold. Not so
I merely shudder. Where is fled the shape Thou lately worest?
Stranger To the world of shadows. But let us thread the present. Whither wilt thou?
Arnold. Must thou be my companion? Stranger. Wherefore not? Your betters keep worse company. Arnold. My betters!
Stranger. Oh! you wax proud, of your new form:
I'm glad of that. Ungrateful too! That's well;
You improve apace:—two changes in an instant,
And you are old in the world's ways already. But bear with me: indeed you'll find me useful
Upon your pilgrimage. But come, pronounce Where shall we now be errant ?
Arnold. Where the world
Is thickest, that I may behold it in
Stranger. That's to say where there is war
Tugging as usual at each other's hearts. Arnold. I have heard great things of
Stranger. A goodly choice
And scarce a better to be found on earth, Since Sodom was put out. The field is wide too;
For now the Frank, and Hun, and Spanish scion
Of the old Vandals are at play along
Strangers. Like gallants,on good coursers. What ho! my chargers! Never yet were better,
Since Phaeton was upset into the Po.
Enter two Pages, with four coal-black Horses.
Arnold. A noble sight!
A nobler breed. Match me in Barbary,
Arnold. The mighty stream, which
From their proud nostrils,burns the very air: And sparks of flame, like dancing fire-flies,
Around their manes, as common insects
Round common steeds towards sunset.
Stranger. Mount, my Lord;
They and I are your servitors.
Our dark-eyed pages-what may be their names?
Stranger. You shall baptise them.
Stranger. Why not! The deeper sinner, better saint.
Arnold. They are beautiful, and cannot, sure, be demons?
Stranger. True; the Devil's always ugly; and your beauty
Is never diabolical.
Arnold. I'll call him
Who bears the golden horn, and wears such bright
And blooming, aspect, Huon; for he looks Like to the lovely boy lost in the forest And never found till now. And for the other And darker, and more thoughtful, who smiles not,
But looks as serious though serene as night, He shall be Memnon, from the Ethiop king Whose statue turns a harper once a day. And you?
Stranger. I have ten thousand names, and twice
As many attributes; but as I wear
Stranger. Then call me Cæsar.
Belongs to empires, and has been but borne
Stranger. And therefore fittest for The Devil in disguise since so you deem me,
Unless you call me Pope instead.
Cæsar thou shalt be. For myself, my name
Cæsar. We'll add a title"Count Arnold:" it hath no ungracious sound,
And will look well upon a billet-doux.
Arnold. Or in an order for a battle-field. Casar (sings). To horse! to horse! my coal-black steed
Paws the ground and snuffs the air; There's not a foal of Arab's breed
More knows whom he must bear!
In the combat he'll not faint;
In the stall he will not stiffen,
And will not such a voyage be sweet?
From the Alps to the Caucasus, ride we,
For we'll leave them behind in the glance
of an eye.
[They mount their horses, and dis
Of fixed Necessity: against her edict
Arnold. And when it prospers—
Cæsar. The Bourbon hath given orders
And by the dawn there will be work.
And shall the City yield? I see the giant-
SCENE II-A Camp before the Walls of Saint Peter, rear its dome and cross into
ARNOLD and CÆSAR.
Cæsar. You are well entered now.
Has been o'er carcasses: mine eyes are full
Cæsar. Then wipe them, and see clearly.
Thou art a conqueror; the chosen knight
Arnold. How old? What! are there
Cæsar. To you. You'll find there are
By their rich harvests,new disease, and gold;
That sky whence Christ ascended from the
Above, and many altar-shrines below.
Arnold. And those scarce mortal arches,
Made even the forest pay its tribute of
Cæsar. The city or the amphitheatre?
Arnold. To-morrow sounds the assault
Cæsar. Which, if it end with
More beautifully, than he did on Rome
Cæsar. Yes, Sir. You forget I am or was
Now. Well! the first of Cæsars was a bald-
And loved his laurels better as a wig
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
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
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 mindedCould 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 statesman,
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 neigh
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!
Cæsar. Yes. I have heard the Angels sing.
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.
Here's the Bourbon for ever!
With the Bourbon we'll gather
Or break or climb o'er
As mounts each firm foot,
And who then shall count o'er
And down with the keys!
Shall clang with our tread.
Of our song bear the burthen!
Beat Germany's drums;
Are couched at their mother;
Who warred with his brother.
To plunder old Rome.
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?
Bourbon. If I were secure!
Phil. Doubt not our soldiers. Were the walls of adamant, They'd crack them. Hunger is a sharp artillery.
Bourbon. That they will falter is my
least of fears.
That they will be repulsed, with Bourbon for Their chief, and all their kindled appetites To marshal them on-were those hoary walls Mountains, and those who guard them like the Gods
Of the old fables, I would trust my Titans ;But now
Phil. They are but men who war with mortals.
Welcome the bitter Hunchback! and his Master,
The beauty of our host, and brave as beauteous,
And generous as lovely. We shall find
So please your Highness, no less for yourself. Bourbon. And if I do, there will not be a labourer
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
Bourbon. True: but those walls have Have never seen it.
Bourbon. That's a fair retort,
For I provoked it:- but the Bourbon's breast
The toil of coming here.
Cæsar. One half
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
Slight crooked friend's as snake-like in his words
As his deeds.
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' Comrade.
Casar. They are but bad company, your Highness;
And worse even for their friends than foes, as being
More permanent acquaintance.
Thou waxest insolent, beyond the privilege
Cæsar. You mean, I speak the truth. I'll lie-it is as easy: then you'll praise me For calling you a hero.
Let him alone; he's brave, and ever has Been first with that swart face and moun
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