I love thee most in dwarfs ! A mortal of
Philistine stature would have gladly pared
His own Goliath down to a slight David;
But thou, my manikin, wouldst soar a show
Rather than hero. Thou shalt be indulged,
If such be thy desire; and yet, by being
A little less removed from present men
In figure, thou canst sway them more; for all
Would rise against thee now, as if to hunt
A new-found mammoth; and their cursed engines,
Their culverins and so forth, would find way
Through our friend's armour there, with greater ease
Than the adulterer's arrow through his heel
Which Thetis had forgotten to baptize
In Styx.

Had no power presented me The possibility of change, I would Have done the best which spirit may, to make Its way, with all deformity's dull, deadly, Discouraging weight upon me, like a mountain, In feeling, on my heart as on my shouldersA hateful and unsightly mole-hill to The eyes of happier man. I would have look'd On beauty in that sex which is the type Of all we know or dream of beautiful Beyond the world they brighten, with a sighNot of love, but despair; nor sought to win, Though to a heart all love, what could not love me In turn, because of this vile crooked clog, Which makes me lonely. Nay, I could have borne It all, had not my mother spurn'd me from her. The she-bear licks her cubs into a sort

Of shape-mv dam beheld my shape was hopeless.

Had she exposed me, like the Spartan, ere
I knew the passionate part of life, I had
Been a clod of the valley,-happier nothing
Than what I am. But even thus, the lowest,
Ugliest, and meanest of mankind, what courage
And perseverance could have done, perchance,
Had made me something-as it has made heroes
Of the same mould as mine. You lately saw me
Master of my own life, and quick to quit it;
And he who is so is the master of
Whatever dreads to die.

STRANGER.

Decide between

What you have been, or will be.

ARNOLD.

I have done so. You have open'd brighter prospects to my eyes, And sweeter to my heart. As I am now,

I might be fear'd, admired, respected, loved,
Of all save those next to me, of whom I
Would be beloved. As thou showest me
A choice of forms, I take the one I view.
Haste! haste!

From the red earth, like Adam,'

Thy likeness I shape,
As the Being who made him,
Whose actions I ape.
Thou clay, be all glowing,

Till the rose in his cheek
Be as fair as, when blowing,
It wears its first streak!
Ye violets, I scatter,
Now turn into eyes!
And thou sunshiny water,
Of blood take the guise!
Let these hyacinth boughs

Be his long, flowing hair,
And wave o'er his brows,

As thou wavest in air!
Let his heart be this marble

I tear from the rock!
But his voice as the warble
Of birds on yon oak!
Let his flesh be the purest
Of mould, in which grew

The lily-root surest,

And drank the best dew! Let his limbs be the lightest Which clay can compound! And his aspect the brightest On earth to be found! Elements, near me,

Be mingled and stirr'd, Know me and hear me,

And leap to my word! Sunbeams, awaken

This earth's animation! "T is done! He hath taken

the shape of Achilles, which rises from the ground, while the phantom has disappeared,

Do as thou wilt.

the earth).

Clay! not dead, but soulless!

Though no man would choose thee,

An immortal no less

Deigns not to refuse thee.

Clay thou art and unto spirit
All clay is of equal merit.

Fire! without which nought can live;
Fire! but in which nought can live,
Save the fabled salamander,
Or immortal souls which wander,
Praying what doth not forgive,
Howling for a drop of water,

Burning in a quenchless lot:

Fire! the only element

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 threaten'd son, When Heaven with the world hath done Fire! assist me to renew

Life in what lies in my view

CESAR (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!
On the hill he will not tire,
Swifter as it waxes higher;
In the marsh he will not slacken,
On the plain be overtaken;
In the wave he will not sink,

Nor pause at the brook's side to drink;
In the race he will not pant,

In the combat he 'll not faint;

On the stones he will not stumble,

Time nor toil shall make him humble:

In the stall he will not stiffen,

But be winged as a griffin,
Only flying with his feet:

And will not such a voyage be sweet?
Merrily! merrily! never unsound,

Shall our bonny black horses skim over the ground!
From the Alps to the Caucasus, ride we, or fly!
For we'll leave them behind in the glance of an eye.
[They mount their horses, and disappear.

And where is that which is so? From the star
To the winding worm, all life is motion, and
In life commotion is the extremest point
Of life. The planet wheels till it becomes
A comet, and, destroying as it sweeps

The stars, goes out. The poor worn winds its way
Living upon the death of other things,
But still, like them, must live and die, the subject
Of something which has made it live and die.
You must obey what all obey, the rule
Of fix'd necessity: against her edict
Rebellion prospers not.

'Tis no rebellion.

ARNOLD.

And when it prospers

CASAR.

ARNOLD.

Will it prosper now?

CESAR.

The Bourbon hath given orders for the assault, And by the dawn there will be work.

ARNOLD.

Alas! And shall the city yield? I see the giant Abode of the true God, and his true saint, Saint Peter, rear its dome and cross into That sky whence Christ ascended from the cross, Which his blood made a badge of glory and Of joy (as once of torture unto him,

God and God's son, man's sole and only refuge).

CESAR.

'Tis there, and shall be.

Above, and many altar shrines below,
Also some culverins upon the walls,
And harquebusses, and what not, besides
The men who are to kindle them to death
Of other men.

ARNOLD.

And those scarce mortal arches, Pile above pile of everlasting wall, The theatre where emperors and their subjects (Those subjects Romans) stood at gaze upon The battles of the monarchs of the wild And wood, the lion and his tusky rebels Of the then untamed desert, brought to joust In the arena (as right well they might, When they had left no human foe unconquer'd), Made even the forest pay its tribute of Life to their amphitheatre, as well As Dacia men to die the eternal death For a sole instant's pastime, and "Pass on To a new gladiator!"-Must it fall?