Select Works of the British Poets, in a Chronological Series from Falconer to Sir Walter Scott with Biographical and Critical Notices

Enter GEOFFRY. Fred. Brave soldier, let me profit by the chance That led me here; I've heard of thy exploits.

Geof. Ah! then you have but heard an ancient tale, Which has been long forgotten.

Fred. But true it is, and should not be forgotten; Though generals jealous of their soldiers' fame, May dash it with neglect.

Enter ROSINBERG.

Ros. (clapping Geof, on the shoulder.) How goes it with thee now, my good field-marshal? Geof. The better that I see your honour well, And in the humour to be merry with me.

Ros. 'Faith, by my sword, I've rightly named thee too;

What is a good field-marshal but a man,

Geof. There are, perhaps, who may be so unge- Whose generous courage and undaunted mind Doth marshal others on in glory's way?

nerous.

Fred. Perhaps, say'st thou? in very truth there Thou art not one by princely favour dubb'd,

He was, as I am told, a learned coxcomb,
And loved a goose-quill better than a sword.
What, dost thou call him brave?

Thou, who dost bear about that war-worn trunk,
Like an old target, hack'd and rough with wounds,
Whilst, after all his mighty battles, he
Was with a smooth skin in his coffin laid,
Unblemish'd with a scar?

Geof. His duty call'd not to such desperate service;
For I have sought where few alive remain'd,
And none unscath'd; where but a few remain'd,
Thus marr'd and mangled; (showing his wounds.)
as belike you've seen,
O' summer nights, around the evening lamp,
Some wretched moths, wingless, and half consumed,
Just feebly crawling o'er their heaps of dead.—
In Savoy, on a small, though desperate post,
Of full three hundred goodly chosen men,
But twelve were left, and right dear friends were we
For ever after. They are all dead now:
I'm old and lonely.-We were valiant hearts-
Frederick Dewalter would have stopp❜d a breach
Against the devil himself. I'm lonely now!
Fred. I'm sorry for thee. Hang ungrateful chiefs!
Why wert thou not promoted?

Geof. After that battle, where my happy fate
Had led me to fulfil a glorious part,
Chafed with the gibing insults of a slave,
The worthless favourite of a great man's favourite,
I rashly did affront; our cautious prince,

With narrow policy dependent made,
Dared not, as I am told, promote me then,
And now he is ashamed, or has forgot it.

Fred. Fy, fy upon it! let him be ashamed:
Here is a trifle for thee-(offering him money.)
Geof.
No, good sir;
I have enough to live as poor men do.
When I'm in want I'll thankfully receive,
Because I'm poor, but not because I'm brave.
Fred. You're proud, old soldier.
Geof.
For if I were, methinks I'd be morose,
And willing to depreciate other men.

Bas. (taking him by the hand.) Brave, honourable man, your worth I know,

And greet it with a brother soldier's love. Geof. (taking away his hand in confusion.) My general, this is too much, too much honour. Bas. (taking his hand again.) No, valiant soldier, I must have it so.

Geof. My humble state agrees not with such honour.

Bas. Think not of it, thy state is not thyself. Let mean souls, highly rank'd, look down on thee, As the poor dwarf, perch'd on a pedestal, O'erlooks the giant: 'tis not worth a thought. Art thou not Geoffry of the tenth brigade, Whose warlike feats, child, maid, and matron know? And oft, cross-elbow'd, o'er his nightly bowl, The jolly toper to his comrade tells? Whose glorious feats of war, by cottage door, The ancient soldier, tracing in the sand The many movements of the varied field, In warlike terms to listening swains relates; Whose bosoms glowing at the wondrous tale First learn to scorn the hind's inglorious life; Shame seize me, if I would not rather be The man thou art, than court-created chief, Known only by the dates of his promotion ! Geof. Ah! would I were, would I were young

Fred. What does he mean to do?
Ros.
We'll know ere long,
Fred. Our general bears it with a careless face,

No, I am not proud; For one so wise.
Ros.
A careless face? on what?
Fred. No sign not ignorance, we know it all.

News which have spread in whispers from the Which to his eyes such flashing lustre gave,

court,

Since last night's messenger arrived from Milan.
Ros. As I'm an honest man, I know it not!
Fred. 'Tis said the rival armies are so near
A battle must immediately ensue.

Ros. It cannot be. Our general knows it not.
The Duke is of our side a sworn ally,
And had such messenger to Mantua come,

He would have been apprized upon the instant.
It cannot be, it is some idle tale.

As though his soul, like an unsheathed sword,
Had through them gleam'd, our noble general
stood,

And to his soldiers, with heart-moving words
The veteran showing, his brave deeds rehearsed,
Who by his side stood like a storm-scath'd oak,
Beneath the shelter of some noble tree,

In the green honours of its youthful prime.
Ros. How look'd the veteran ?
Valt.

I cannot tell thee!

Fred. So may it prove till we have join'd them At first he bore it up with cheerful looks,

too

Then Heaven grant they may be nearer still!
For O! my soul for war and danger pants,
As doth the noble lion for his prey.
My soul delights in battle.

Ros. Upon my simple word, I'd rather see
A score of friendly fellows shaking hands,
Than all the world in arms. Hast thou no fear?
Fred. What dost thou mean?
Ros.
Hast thou no fear of death?
Fred. Fear is a name for something in the mind,
But what, from inward sense, I cannot tell.

I could as little anxious march to battle,

As when a boy to childish games I ran.

As one who fain would wear his honours bravely
And greet the soldiers with a comrade's face :
But when Count Basil, in such moving speech,
Told o'er his actions past, and bade his troops
Great deeds to emulate, his countenance changed;
High heaved his manly breast, as it had been
By inward strong emotion half convulsed;
Trembled his nether lip; he shed some tears:
The general paused, the soldiers shouted loud;
Then hastily he brush'd the drops away,
And waved his hand, and clear'd his tear choked
voice,

As though he would some grateful answer make;
When back with double force the whelming tide

Ros. Then as much virtue hast thou in thy val- Of passion came; high o'er his hoary head

our,

As when a child thou hadst in childish play.
The brave man is not he who feels no fear,
For that were stupid and irrational;
But he, whose noble soul its fear subdues,
And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from.
As for your youth, whom blood and blows delight,
Away with them! there is not in the crew
One valiant spirit.-Ha! what sound is this?
(Shouting is heard without.)
Fred. The soldiers shout; I'll run and learn the

cause.

His arm he toss'd, and heedless of respect,
In Basil's bosom hid his aged face,
Sobbing aloud. From the admiring ranks
A cry arose; still louder shouts resound.
I felt a sudden tightness grasp my throat
As it would strangle me; such as I felt,
I knew it well, some twenty years ago,
When my good father shed his blessing on me :
I hate to weep, and so I came away.

Ros. (giving Valt. his hand.) And there, take
thou my blessing for the tale.

Hark, how they shout again! 'tis nearer now.

Ros. But tell me first, how didst thou like the This way they march. veteran ?

Fred. He is too proud; he was displeased with

me,

Because I offer'd him a little sum.

Ros. What, money! O, most generous, noble spirit:

Noble rewarder of superior worth!

A halfpenny for Belisarius !

But hark! they shout again-here comes Valtomer. (Shouting heard without.)

Enter VALTOMER.

What does this shouting mean?

Valt. O! I have seen a sight, a glorious sight!

Thou wouldst have smiled to see it.

Martial music heard. Enter Soldiers marching in order, bearing GEOFFRY in triumph on their shoulders After them enter BASIL; the whole preceded by a band of music. They cross over the stage, are joined by Ros. &c. and EXEUNT.

SCENE II.

Enter GAURIECIO and a GENTLEMAN, talking as they

enter.

Gaur. So slight a tie as this we cannot trust:
One day her influence may detain him here,
But love a feeble agent may be found
With the ambitious.

Gent. And so you think this boyish odd conceit
Of bearing home in triumph with his troops

Ros. How smile? methinks thine eyes are wet That aged soldier, will your purpose serve?

with tears.

Gaur. Yes, I will make it serve; for though my prince

Is little scrupulous of right and wrong,

I have possess'd his mind, as though it were
A flagrant insult on his princely state,
To honour thus the man he has neglected,
Which makes him relish, with a keener taste,
My purposed scheme. Come, let us fall to work.
With all their warm heroic feelings roused,
We'll spirit up his troops to mutiny,

Which must retard, perhaps undo him quite.
Thanks to his childish love, which has so well
Procured us time to tamper with the fools.

Gent. Ah! but those feelings he has waked within them,

Are generous feelings, and endear himself.

Enter ROSINBERG, fantastically dressed, with a willow upon his head, and scraps of sonnets, and torn letters fluttering round his neck; pursued by a group of Masks from one of the inner apartments, who hoot at him, and push him about as he enters.

1st Mask. Away, thou art a saucy, jeering knave,

Gaur. It matters not; though generous in their And fain wouldst make a jest of all true love.

nature,

They yet may serve a most ungenerous end;
And he who teaches men to think, though nobly,
Doth raise within their minds a busy judge
To scan his actions. Send thine agents forth,
And sound it in their ears how much Count Basil
Affects all difficult and desperate service,
To raise his fortunes by some daring stroke;
Having unto the emperor pledged his word,
To make his troops all dreadful hazards brave:
For which intent he fills their simple minds
With idle tales of glory and renown;
Using their warm attachment to himself

For most unworthy ends.

This is the busy time: go forth, my friend;
Mix with the soldiers, now in jolly groups
Around their evening cups. There, spare no
cost, (gives him a purse.)

Observe their words, see how the poison takes
And then return again.
Gent.

I will, my lord.
[EXEUNT severally.

SCENE III-A SUITE OF GRAND APARTMENTS, WITH
THEIR WIDE DOORS THROWN OPEN, LIGHTED UP
WITH LAMPS, AND FILLED WITH COMPANY IN
MASKS.

Enter several Masks, and pass through the first apartment
to the other rooms. Then enter BASIL in the disguise
of a wounded soldier.

Bas. (alone.) Now am I in the region of delight!
Within the blessed compass of these walls
She is; the gay light of those blazing lamps
Doth shine upon her, and this painted floor
Is with her footsteps press'd. E'en now, perhaps,
Amidst that motley rout she plays her part:
There will I go; she cannot be conceal'd;

For but the flowing of her graceful robe

Will soon betray the lovely form that wears it,

Ros. But should my lady brisker mettle own,
And tire of all those gentle, dear delights,
Such pretty little quarrels I'd invent-

As whether such a fair one (some dear friend)
Whose squirrel's tail was pinch'd, or the soft maid,
With favourite lap-dog of a surfeit sick,
Have greatest cause of delicate distress
Or whether-

1st Mask. Go, too bad thou art indeed!
(aside.) How could he know I quarrell'd with the
count?

2d Mask. Wilt thou do nothing for thy lady's fame?
Ros. Yes, lovely shepherdess, on every tree
I'll carve her name, with true-love garlands bound:
Write madrigals upon her roseate cheeks;
Odes to her eye; 'faith, every wart and mole
That spots her snowy skin shall have its sonnet!
I'll make love posies for her thimble's edge,
Rather than please her not.

3d Mask. But for her sake what dangers wilt
thou brave?

Ros. In truth, fair nun, I stomach dangers less

Though in a thousand masks. Ye homely weeds,-Than other service, and were something loath (looking at his habit.)

Which half conceal, and half declare my state,
Beneath your kind disguise, O! let me prosper,
And boldly take the privilege ye give:
Follow her mazy steps, crowd by her side;
Thus near her face my listening ear incline,
And feel her soft breath fan my glowing cheek,
Her fair hand seize, yea, press it closely too!
May it not be e'en so? by heaven it shall!
This once, O! serve me well, and ever after,
Ye shall be treasured like a monarch's robes;
Lodged in my chamber, near my pillow kept;
And oft with midnight lamp I'll visit ye,
And, gazing wistfully, this night recall,
With all its past delights.-But yonder moves
A slender form, dress'd in an azure robe;
It moves not like the rest-it must be she!
(Goes hastily into another apartment, and mixes
with the Masks.)

To storm a convent's walls for one dear glance;
But if she'll wisely manage this alone,

As maids have done, come o'er the wall herself,
And meet me fairly on the open plain,

I will engage her tender steps to aid
In all annoyance of rude brier or stone,
Or crossing rill, some half foot wide or so,
Which that fair lady should unaided pass,
Ye gracious powers forbid! I will defend
Against each hideous fly, whose dreadful buzz-
4th Mask. Such paltry service suits thee best,
indeed.

What maid of spirit would not spurn thee from her?
Ros. Yes, to recall me soon, sublime sultana !
For I can stand the burst of female passion,
Each change of humour and affected storm;
Be scolded, frown'd upon, to exile sent,
Recall'd, caress'd, chid, and disgraced again ;.
And say what maid of spirit would forego

The bliss of one to exercise it thus ?

O! I can bear ill treatment like a lamb!

Alb. I thank your lordship for these courteous
words;

4th Mask. (beating him.) Well, bear it then, thou But to my purpose-You are Basil's friend:
hast deserved it well.
Be friendly to him then, and warn him well

Ros. 'Zounds, lady! do not give such heavy This court to leave, nor be allured to stay;

blows;

I'm not your husband, as belike you guess.

5th Mask. Come, lover, I enlist thee for my swain; Therefore, good lady, do forbear your blows, Nor thus assume my rights.

Ros. Agreed. Wilt thou a gracious mistress prove?

For if he does, there's mischief waits him here
May prove the bane of all his future days.
Remember this, I must no longer stay.

God bless your friend and you; I love you both.

[EXIT. Ros. (alone.) What may this warning mean? I had my fears.

5th Mask. Such as thou wouldst, such as thy There's something hatching which I know not of

genius suits;

For since of universal scope it is,

All women's humour shalt thou find in me.

I'll gently soothe thee with such winning smiles-
To nothing sink thee with a scornful frown:
Tease thee with peevish and affected freaks;
Caress thee, love thee, hate thee, break thy pate;
But still between the whiles I'll careful be,
In feigned admiration of thy parts,
Thy shape, thy manners, or thy graceful mien,
To bind thy giddy soul with flattery's charm;
For well thou know'st that flattery ever is
The tickling spice, the pungent seasoning

I've lost all spirit for this masking now.

(Throwing away his papers and his willows.) Away, ye scraps! I have no need of you. I would I knew what garment Basil wears: I watch'd him, yet he did escape my sight; But I must search again and find him out. [EXIT.

Enter BASIL much agitated, with his mask in his hand.

Bas. In vain I've sought her, follow'd every form
Where aught appear'd of dignity or grace:
I've listen'd to the tone of every voice;
I've watch'd the entrance of each female mask;
My fluttering heart roused like a startled hare,

Which makes this motley dish of monstrous scraps With the imagined rustling of her robes,

So pleasing to the dainty lover's taste.

Thou canst not leave, though violent in extreme,
And most vexatious in her teasing moods;
Thou canst not leave the fond admiring soul,
Who did declare, when calmer reason ruled,
Thou hadst a pretty leg.

Ros. Marry, thou hast the better of me there. 5th Mask. And more; I'll pledge to thee my honest word,

That when your noble swainship shall bestow
More faithful homage on the simple maid,
Who loves you with sincerity and truth,
Than on the changeful and capricious tyrant,
Who mocking leads you like a trammel'd ass,
My studied woman's wiles I'll lay aside,
And such a one become.

Ros. Well spoke, brave lady, I will follow thee.
(Follows her to the corner of the stage.)
Now on my life, these ears of mine I'd give,
To have but one look of that little face,
Where such a biting tongue doth hold its court
To keep the fools in awe. Nay, nay, unmask:
I'm sure thou hast a pair of wicked eyes,
A short and saucy nose: now prithee do.

(Unmasking.) Alb. (unmasking.) Well, hast thou guess'd me right?

At every dame's approach. Deceitful night,
How art thou spent! where are thy promised joys?
How much of thee is gone! O spiteful fate!
Yet within the compass of these walls
Somewhere she is, although to me she is not.
Some other eye doth gaze upon her form,
Some other ear doth listen to her voice;
Some happy favourite doth enjoy the bliss
My spiteful stars deny.

Disturber of my soul! what veil conceals thee?
What devilish spell is o'er this cursed hour?
O heavens and earth! where art thou?

Enter a Mask in the dress of a female conjurer. Mask. Methinks thou art impatient, valiant soldier:

Thy wound doth gall thee sorely; is it so?
Bas. Away, away, I cannot fool with thee.
Mask. I have some potent drugs may ease thy

smart.

Where is thy wound? is't here?

Bas.

(Pointing to the bandage on his arm.) Poo, poo, begone! Thou canst do naught-'tis in my head, my heart'Tis everywhere, where medicine cannot cure.

Mask. If wounded in the heart, it is a wound Which some ungrateful fair one hath inflicted,

Ros. (bowing low.) Wild freedom, changed to And I may conjure something for thy good.

most profound respect,

Doth make an awkward booby of me now.

Alb. I've joined your frolic with a good intent, For much I wish'd to gain your private ear.

The time is precious, and I must be short.

Bas. Ah! if thou couldst! what, must I fool

with thee?

Mask. Thou must a while, and be examined too. What kind of woman did the wicked deed?

Bas. I cannot tell thee. In her presence still

Ros. On me your slightest word more power will My mind in such a wild delight hath been,

have,

Most honour'd lady, than a conn'd oration.

Thou art the only one of all thy sex,

Who wear'st thy years with such a winning grace; Thou art the more admired the more thou fadest.

I could not pause to picture out her beauty,
Yet naught of woman e'er was form'd so fair.
Mask. Art thou a soldier, and no weapon bear'st
To send her wound for wound?

Bas. Alas! she shoots from such a hopeless height,

No dart of mine hath plume to mount so far.
None but a prince may dare.

Mask. But, if thou hast no hope, thou hast no love.
Bas. I love, and yet in truth I had no hope,
But that she might at least with some good will,
Some gentle, pure regard, some secret kindness,
Within her dear remembrance give me place.
This was my all of hope, but it is flown:
For she regards me not; despises, scorns me:
Scorns, I must say it too, a noble heart,
That would have bled for her.

Mask. (discovering herself to be Victoria, by speak-
ing in her true voice.) O! no, she does not.
[EXIT hastily in confusion.
Bas. (stands for a moment riveted to the spot,
then holds up both his hands in an ecstacy.)

It is herself! it is her blessed self!
O! what a fool am I, that had no power
To follow her, and urge th' advantage on.
Begone, unmanly fears! I must be bold.

A Dance of Masks.

[EXIT after her.

Enter DUKE and GAURIECIO, unmasked.
Duke. This revelry, methinks, goes gayly on.
The hour is late, and yet your friend returns not.
Gaur. He will return ere long-nay, there he

comes.

Enter GENTLEMAN.

Duke. Does all go well? (going close up to him.)
Gent.
All as your grace could wish.
For now the poison works, and the stung soldiers
Rage o'er their cups, and, with fire-kindled eyes,
Swear vengeance on the chief who would betray
them.

That Frederick, too, the discontented man
Of whom your highness was so lately told,
Swallows the bait, and does his part most bravely.
Gauriecio counsell'd well to keep him blind,
Nor with a bribe attempt him. On my soul!
He is so fiery he had spurn'd us else,
And ruin'd all the plot.

Vict.
My father comes
He were displeased if he should see thee thus.
Bas. Thou dost not hate me, then?

Vict. Away! he'll be displeased-I cannot say-
Bas. Well, let him come: it is thyself I fear;
For did destruction thunder o'er my head,
By the dread Power of heaven, I would not stir,
Till thou hadst answer'd my impatient soul!
Thou dost not hate me?

Vict. Nay, nay, let go thy hold-I cannot hate
thee. (Breaks from him and exit.)
Bas. (alone.) Thou canst not hate me! no, thou
canst not hate me!

For I love thee so well, so passing well,
With such o'erflowing heart, so very dearly,
That it were sinful not to pay me back
Some small, some kind return.

Enter MIRANDO, dressed like Cupid.
Mir. Bless thee, brave soldier.
Bas. What say'st thou, pretty child? what play-
ful fair

Has deck'd thee out in this fantastic guise?
Mir. It was Victoria's self; it was the princess.
Bas. Thou art her favourite, then?
Mir.
They say I am:
I think in very truth she loves me well.
And now, between ourselves, I'll tell thee, soldier,
Such merry little songs she teaches me-
Sly riddles too, and when I'm laid to rest,
Ofttimes on tip-toe near my couch she steals,
And lifts the covering so, to look upon me.

Duke. Speak softly, friend-I'll hear it all in And oftentimes I feign as though I slept;

private.

A gay and careless face we now assume.

DUKE, GAUR. and GENT. retire into the inner apartment, appearing to laugh and talk gayly to the different Masks as they pass them.

Re-enter VICTORIA, followed by BASIL.

For then her warm lips to my cheek she lays,
And pats me softly with her fair white hands;
And then I laugh, and through mine eyelids peep,
And then she tickles me, and calls me cheat;
And then we so do laugh, ha, ha, ha, ha!
Bas. What! does she even so, thou happiest child?

Vict. Forbear, my lord; these words offend mine And have those rosy cheeks been press'd so dearly?

ear.

Bas. Yet let me but this once, this once offend,
Nor thus with thy displeasure punish me;
And if my words against all prudence sin,
O! hear them, as the good of heart do list

To the wild ravings of a soul distraught.

Vict. If I indeed should listen to thy words,

They must not talk of love.

Delicious urchin! I will kiss thee too.
(Takes him eagerly up in his arms, and kisses him.)
Mir. No, let me down, thy kisses are so rough,
So furious rough-she doth not kiss me so.
Bas. Sweet boy, where is thy chamber? by Vic-
toria's ?

Mir. Hard by her own.

Bas. Then will I come beneath thy window soon:

Bas. To be with thee, to speak, to hear thee speak, And, if I could, some pretty song I'd sing,

To claim the soft attention of thine eye,
I'd be content to talk of any thing,
If it were possible to be with thee,
And think of aught but love.

Vict. I fear, my lord, you have too much presumed
On those unguarded words, which were in truth

To lull thee to thy rest.

Mir. O no, thou must not! 'tis a frightful place;
It is the churchyard of the neighbouring dome.
The princess loves it for the lofty trees,
Whose spreading branches shade her chamber walls:
So do not I; for when 'tis dark o' nights,

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Select Works of the British Poets, in a Chronological Series from Falconer ...