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MARY R. MITFORD.-ADDISON.

Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman
Was greater than a king! And once again,-
Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread
Of either Brutus !-Once again, I swear,
The Eternal City shall be free!

299

MARY R. MITFORD.

44. SPEECH OF SEMPRONIUS FOR WAR.

My voice is still for war.

Gods! can a Roman senate long debate,
Which of the two to choose-slavery or death?
No; let us rise at once, gird on our swords,
And, at the head of our remaining troops,
Attack the foe; break through the thick array
Of his thronged legions, and charge home upon him.
Perhaps some arm more lucky than the rest

May reach his heart, and free the world from bondage.
Rise, fathers, rise! 'tis Rome demands your help;
Rise, and revenge her slaughtered citizens,

Or share their fate! The corpse of half her senate
Manure the fields of Thessaly, while we
Sit here, deliberating in cold debates,

If we should sacrifice our lives to honor,
Or wear them out in servitude and chains.
Rouse up, for shame! our brothers of Pharsalia
Point at their wounds, and cry aloud, "To battle!"
Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow,
And Scipio's ghost walks unrevenged amongst us!

ADDISON

45. SPEECH OF LUCIUS FOR PEACE.

My thoughts, I must confess, are turned on peace.
Already have our quarrels filled the world
With widows and with orphans. Scythia mourns
Our guilty wars, and earth's remotest regions
Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome.
'Tis time to sheathe the sword and spare mankind.
It is not Cæsar, but the gods, my fathers:

The gods declare against us, and repel
Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle
(Prompted by blind revenge and wild despair),
Were to refuse the awards of Providence,
And not to rest in heaven's determination.
Already have we shown our love to Rome :
Now let us show submission to the gods.
We took up arms, not to revenge ourselves,
But free the commonwealth: when this end fails,
Arms have no further use ;-our country's cause,

That drew our swords, now wrests them from our hands,
And bids us not delight in Roman blood

Unprofitably shed. What men could do

Is done already heaven and earth will witness,
If Rome must fall, that we are innocent.

ADDISON.

46. SPEECH OF CATO.

LET us appear nor rash nor diffident :
Immoderate valor swells into a fault;
And fear, admitted into public councils,
Betrays, like treason. Let us shun them both.
Fathers, I cannot see that our affairs

Are grown thus desperate: we have bulwarks round us ;
Within our walls are troops, inured to toil
In Afric's heats, and seasoned to the sun :
Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind us,
Ready to rise, at its young prince's call.
While there is hope, do not distrust the gods;
But wait, at least, till Cæsar's near approach
Force us to yield. "Twill never be too late
To sue for chains and own a conqueror.
Why should Rome fall a moment ere her time?
No, let us draw her term of freedom out,
In its full length, and spin it to the last.
So shall we gain still one day's liberty;
And let me perish; but, in Cato's judgment,
A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty,
Is worth a whole eternity in bondage.

ADDISON.

ALBERT G. GREENE.

301

47. THE BARON'S LAST BANQUET.

O'ER a low couch the setting sun had thrown its latest ray,
Where, in his last strong agony, a dying warrior lay-

The stern old Baron Rudiger, whose frame had ne'er been bent
By wasting pain, till time and toil its iron strength had spent.

"They come around me here, and say my days of life are o'er, That I shall mount my noble steed, and lead my band no more; They come, and, to my beard, they dare to tell me now that I, Their own liege lord and master born, that I-ha! ha!—must die.

"And what is death? I've dared him oft, before the Paynim spear;

Think ye he's entered at my gate-has come to seek me here? I've met him, faced him, scorned him, when the fight was raging

hot;

I'll try his might-I'll brave his power; defy, and fear him not.

"Ho! sound the tocsin from my tower, and fire the culverin ;
Bid each retainer arm with speed: call every vassal in.
Up with my banner on the wall,—the banquet-board prepare,-
Throw wide the portal of my hall, and bring my armor there!"

An hundred hands were busy then: the banquet forth was spread,

And rung the heavy oaken floor with many a martial tread; While from the rich, dark tracery, along the vaulted wall, Lights gleamed on harness, plume, and spear, o'er the proud old Gothic hall.

Fast hurrying through the outer gate, the mailed retainers poured,

On through the portal's frowning arch, and thronged around the board;

While at its head, within his dark, carved, oaken chair of state, Armed cap-à-pie, stern Rudiger, with girded falchion, sate.

"Fill every beaker up, my men,-pour forth the cheering wine! There's life and strength in every drop-thanksgiving to the

vine !

Are ye all there, my vassals true?—mine eyes are waxing dim: Fill round, my tried and fearless ones, each goblet to the brim!

Draw forth each trusty

"Ye're there; but yet I see ye not.

sword,

And let me hear your faithful steel clash once around my board. I hear it faintly. Louder yet!-What clogs my heavy breath? Up all, and shout for Rudiger, Defiance unto Death!" "

Bowl rang to bowl, steel clanged to steel, and rose a deafening cry,

That made the torches flare around, and shook the flags on high. "Ho! cravens, do ye fear him ?—Slaves, traitors, have ye flown? Ho! cowards, have ye left me to meet him here alone?

"But I defy him :-let him come !" Down rang the massy cup, While from its sheath the ready blade came flashing half-way up; And, with the black and heavy plumes, scarce trembling on his head,

There, in his dark, carved, oaken chair, old Rudiger sat dead. ALBERT G. GREENE.

48. BERNARDO AND KING ALPHONSO.

WITH Some good ten of his chosen men,
Bernardo hath appeared,
Before them all in the palace hall,
The lying king to beard;
With cap in hand and eye on ground,

He came in reverend guise,
But ever and anon he frowned,

And flame broke from his eyes.

"A curse upon thee," cries the king,
"Who com'st unbid to me!

But what from traitor's blood should spring,
Save traitor like to thee?

His sire, lords, had a traitor's heart,-
Perchance our champion brave

May think it were a pious part
To share Don Sancho's grave."

"Whoever told this tale,

The king hath rashness to repeat,"
Cries Bernard, "here my gage I fling
Before the liar's feet.

J. G. LOCKHART.

No treason was in Sancho's blood,—
No stain in mine doth lie:

Below the throne, what knight will own
The coward calumny ?

"Ye swore upon your kingly faith,
To set Don Sancho free;

But, curse upon your paltering breath!
The light he ne'er did see:
He died in dungeon cold and dim,
By Alphonso's base decree;
And visage blind, and mangled limb,
Were all they gave to me.

"The king that swerveth from his word,
Hath stained his purple black :

No Spanish lord shall draw his sword
Behind a liar's back.

But noble vengeance shall be mine ;
And open hate I'll show ;-
The king hath injured Carpio's line,
And Bernard is his foe!"

"Seize-seize him!" loud the king doth scream: "There are a thousand here;

Let his foul blood this instant stream ;

What! caitiffs, do ye fear?
Seize-seize the traitor!" But not one

To move a finger dareth:

Bernardo standeth by the throne,

And calm his sword he bareth.

He drew the falchion from its sheath,
And held it up on high;

And all the hall was still as death :-
Cries Bernard, "Here am I;

And here's the sword that owns no lord,
Excepting heaven and me:

Fain would I know who dares its point,—

King, condé, or grandee."

Then to his mouth his horn he drew,

It hung below his cloak;

His ten true men the signal knew,

And through the ring they broke.

303

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