XXIX.-CARDINAL WOLSEY ON BEING CAST OFF BY KING HENRY VIII. SHAKESPEARE. AY, then, farewell! I have touched the highest point of all my greatness, And, from that full meridian of my glory, I haste now to my setting: I shall fall But far beyond my depth: my high blown pride Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye! Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman, Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me must more be heard of,—say, then, I taught thee,—— Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor, Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee,-- 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 Cromwell, And, There, take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny; 'tis the king's: my robe, I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell! Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not, in mine age, XXX. CATILINE'S LAST HARANGUE TO HIS ARMY. CROLY. BRAVE comrades! all is ruined! I disdain To hide the truth from you. The die is thrown ! And now, let each that wishes for long life Give me your hands! (This moisture in my eyes Then each man to his tent, and take the arms Now to your cohort's heads,-the word's-Revenge. XXXI.-LUCIUS JUNIUS BRUTUS OVER THE BODY OF LUCRETIA. J. H. PAYNE. THUS, thus, my friends! fast as our breaking hearts And now, to say one word of the imposture The mask, necessity has made me wear. When the ferocious malice of your king King, do I call him?-when the monster, Tarquin, Slew, as most of you may well remember, My father Marcus, and my elder brother, Mr Envying at once their virtues and their wealth, Would you know why I summoned you together? The mould in which each female face was formed, The worthiest of the worthy! Not the nymph And whispered in his ear her strains divine, Can I conceive beyond her !-The young choir Of vestal virgins bent to her! Oh, my countrymen ! It was a holiday in Rome; old age Forgot its crutch, labor its task,--all ran ; And mothers, turning to their daughters, cried, "There, there's Lucretia !"-Now look ye where she lies, That beauteous flower, that innocent sweet rose, Torn up by ruthless violence--gone! gone! Say--would you seek instruction? would you seek XXXII.-ROLLA TO THE PERUVIANS. Y brave associates--partners of my toil, my feelings, and my fame!--Can Rolla's words add vigor to the virtuous energies which inspire your hearts?—No! you have judged, as I have, the foulness of the crafty plea by which these bold invaders would delude you. Your generous spirit has compared, as mine has, the motives which, in a war like this, can animate their minds and ours. They, by a strange frenzy driven, fight for power, for plunder, and extended rule; -we, for our country, our altars, and our homes. They follow an adventurer whom they fear, and obey a power which they hate ;—we serve a monarch whom we love, a God whom we adore. When'er they move in anger, desolation tracks their progress! where'er they pause in amity, affliction mourns their friendship! They boast they come but to improve our state, enlarge our thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error:—yes, they will give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are themselves the slaves of passion, avarice, and pride!-They offer us their protection—yes, such protection as vultures give to lambs-covering and devouring them! They call upon us to barter all the good we have inherited and proved, for the desperate chace of something better-which they promise. Be our plain answer the throne we honor is the people's choice-the laws we reverence are our brave fathers' legacy—the faith we follow teaches us to live in bonds of charity with all mankind, and die with hope of bliss beyond the grave. Tell your invaders this, and tell them, too, we seek no change; and, least of all, such change as they would bring us. XXXIII.—WILLIAM TELL TO HIS NATIVE Ε MOUNTAINS. J. S. KNOWLES. YE crags and peaks, I'm with you once again! I hold to you the hands you first beheld, To show they still are free. A spirit in your echoes answer me, And bid your tenant welcome to his home How huge you are, how mighty, and how free! Ye are the things that tower, that shine; whose smile Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty, I'm with you once again!—I call to you To show they still are free. I rush to you Scaling yonder peak, I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow, I bent my bow: yet kept he rounding still Of measuring the ample range beneath, And round about; absorbed, he heeded not The death that threatened him.-1 could not shoot 'Twas liberty!--I turned my bow aside, And let him soar away! Heavens with what pride I used How happy was I then! I loved Its very storms. Yes, I have often sat In my boat at night, when midway o'er the lake— WEI The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled -On the wild jutting cliff, o'ertaken oft By the mountain blast, I have laid me flat along ; Then I have thought of other lands, whose storms Have wished me there;-the thought that mine was free Blow on! This is the land of liberty! XXXIV. JUGURTHA'S PRISON THOUGHTS. C. WOLFE. ? ELL-is the rack prepared-the pincers heated? Where is the scourge How-not employed in Rome? We have them in Numidia. Not in Rome? I'm sorry for it; I could enjoy them now-I might have felt them yesterday; but now, now I have seen my funeral procession; the chariot-wheels of Marius have rolled o'er me- -his horses' hoofs have trampled me in triumph—I have attained that terrible consummation my soul could stand aloof, and from on high look down upon the ruins of my body, smiling in apathy !—I feel no longer -I challenge Rome to give another pang! Gods! how he smiled, when he beheld me pause before his car, and scowl upon the mob! The curse of Rome was burning on my lips; and I had gnawed my chain, and hurled it at him-but that I knew he would have smiled again !—A king, and led before the gaudy Marius! before those shouting masters of the world-as if I had been conquered! while each street, each peopled wall, and each insulting window, pealed forth their brawling triumphs o'er my head. Oh! for a lion from thy woods, Numidia! Or had I, in that moment of disgrace, enjoyed the freedom but of yonder slave, I would have made my monument in Rome ! Yet am I not that fool,—that Roman fool,—to think disgrace entombs the hero's soul—for ever damps his fires, and dims his glories; that no bright laurel can adorn the brow that once was bowed, no victory's trumpet-sound can drown in joy the rattling of his chains: no;-could one glimpse of victory and vengeance dart preciously across me, I could kiss thy footstep's dust again; then, all in flame, with Massinissa's energies unquenched, start from beneath thy chariot-wheels, and grasp the gory laurel reeking in my view, and force a passage, through disgrace, to glory!—victory, vengeance-glory!-Oh, these chains! My soul's in fetters, too; for, from this moment, through all eternity I see but death. Then come, and let me gloom upon the past. Sleep! I'll sleep no more, until I sleep for ever! When I last slept, I heard Adherbal scream. I'll sleep no more! I'll think-until I die; my eyes shall pore upon my miseries, until my miseries shall be no more. Yet wherefore was that scream? Why, I have heard his living scream--it was not half so frightful. Whence comes the difference? When the man was living, why I did gaze upon his couch of torments with placid vengeance; and each anguished cry gave me stern satisfaction! Now, he's dead, and his lips move not; yet his voice's image flashed such a dreadful darkness o'er my soul, I would not mount Numidia's throne again, did every night bring such a scream as that. Oh, yes! 'twas I who caused |