Cæs. I cannot find my hero; he is mix'd
With the heroic crowd that now pursue
The fugitives, or battle with the desperate.
What have we here? A cardinal or two
That do not seem in love with martyrdom.
How the old red-shanks scamper. Could they
doff

Their hose as they have doff'd their hats, 'twould
A blessing, as a mark the less for plunder. [be
But let them fly; the crimson kennels now
Will not much stain their stockings, since the
Is of the self-same purple hue.

[mire Enter a Party fighting; ARNOLD at the head of the Besiegers.

He comes,
Hand in hand with the mild twins-Gore and
Holla! hold, count!
[Glory.
Arn.
Away! they must not rally. I
Cas. I tell thee, be not rash; a golden bridge
Is for a flying enemy. I gave thee
A form of beauty, and an

Exemption from some maladies of body,
But not of mind, which is not mine to give.
But though I gave the form of Thetis' son,
I dipt thee not in Styx; and 'gainst a foe
I would not warrant thy chivalric heart

More than Pelides' heel; why, then, be cautious.
And know thyself a mortal still.

Your old philosophers Beheld mankind, as mere spectators of The Olympic games. When I behold a prize Worth wrestling for, I may be found a Milo. Arn. Ay, 'gainst an oak. Cæs.

A forest, when it suits me.

I combat with a mass, or not at all.
Meantime, pursue thy sport as I do mine;
Which is just now to gaze, since all these
Will reap my harvest gratis.
[labourers

Arn.

A fiend!

Cæs.

Thou art still

And thou-a man.

Arn. Why, such I fain would show me.

Cæs.

True-as men are.

Arn. And what is that? Cæs. Thou feelest and thou see'st. [Exit ARNOLD, joining in the combat, which still continues between detached parties. The scene closes.

SCENE III.-St Peter's. The Interior of the Church; the Pope at the Altar; Priests, &c..

Luth. Sold. In the holy name of Christ, Destroy proud Anti-Christ. I am a Christian. Cæs. Yes, a disciple that would make the founder

Of your belief renounce it, could he see
Such proselytes. Best stint thyself to plunder.
Luth. Sold. I say he is the devil.
Cæs.
Hush! keep that secret,
Lest he should recognize you for his own.
Luth. Sold. Why would you save him? I re-
peat he is

The devil, or the devil's vicar upon earth.
Cas. And that's the reason: would you make
a quarrel

With your best friends? You had far best be
His hour is not yet come.
[quiet;
Luth. Sold.
That shall be seen!
[The LUTHERAN SOLDIER rushes forward:
a shot strikes him from one of the Pope's
Guards, and he falls at the foot of the Altar.
Cæs. [to the LUTHERAN]. I told you so.
Luth. Sold. And will you not avenge me?
Cas. Not I! You know that Vengeance is
the Lord's:'

You see he loves no interlopers.
Luth. Sold. [dying).

Oh!

"Tis

Had I but slain him, I had gone on high,
Crown'd with eternal glory! Heaven, forgive
My feebleness of arm that reach'd him not,
And take thy servant to thy mercy.
A glorious triumph still; proud Babylon's
No more; the Harlot of the Seven Hills
Hath changed her scarlet raiment for sackcloth
And ashes!
[The LUTHERAN dies.
Yes, thine own amidst the rest.

Caes.

Well done, old Babel!

[The GUARDS defend themselves desperately, while the PONTIFF escapes, by a private passage, to the Vatican and the Castle of St Angelo.

Cas. Ha! right nobly battled: Now, priest! now, soldier! the two great professions,

Together by the ears and hearts! I have not Seen a more comic pantomime since Titus

Cæs. I am glad he hath escaped: he may thank me for't

In part. I would not have his bulls abolish'd'Twere worth one half our empire: his indulgences

Demand some in return;-no, no, he must not
Fall; and, besides, his now escape may furnish
A future miracle, in future proof

Of his infallibility. [To the SPANISH SOLDIERY.
Well, cut-throats!
What do you pause for? If you make not haste
There will not be a link of pious gold left.
And you, too, catholics! Would ye return
From such a pilgrimage without a relic?
The very Lutherans have more true devotion
See how they strip the shrines !
Soldiers.

By holy Peter !
He speaks the truth; the heretics will bear
The best away.
Cæs.

And that were shame! Go to!
Assist in their conversion. The SOLDIERS dis-
perse; many quit the Church, others enter.
Cæs.
They are gone,
And others come: so flows the wave on wave
Of what these creatures call eternity,
Deeming themselves the breakers of the ocean,
While they are but its bubbles, ignorant
That foam is their foundation. So another!
Enter OLIMPIA, flying from the pursuit-She
springs upon the Altar.

Sold. She's mine!
Another Sold. [opposing the former]. You lie,
I track'i her first: and were she

The Pope's niece, I'll not yield her. [They fight. 3d Sold. [advancing towards OLIMPIA]. You may settle

Your claims; I'll make mine good.
Olimp.

You touch me not alive.
3d Sold.

Infernal slave!

Alive or dead!

Olimp. [embracing a massive crucifix]. Respect your God!

3d Sold!

Yes, when he shines in gold.

Girl, you but grasp your dowry. [As he advances, OLIMPIA, with a strong and sudden effort, casts down the crucifix; it strikes the Soldier, who falls.

3d Sold. Oh, great God! Olimp. Ah! now you recognize him. 3d Sold. My brain is crush'd! Comrades, help, ho! All's darkness! He dies. Other Soldiers [coming up). Slay her, although she had a thousand lives: She hath kill'd our comrade. Olimp.

Welcome such a death! You have no life to give, which the worst slave Would take. Great God! through thy redeem

ing Son,

Soldiers.

Follow !

He hath escaped ! [passage up,

and thee!

Enter ARNOLD.

Another Sold. They have barr'd the narrow And it is clogg'd with dead even to the door.

For your existence. Had you touch'd a hair
Of those dishevell'd locks, I would have thinn'd
Your ranks more than the enemy. Away!
Ye jackals! gnaw the bones the lion leaves,
But not even these till he permits.

The lion

Mutineer!

A Sold. [murmuring]. Might conquer for himself then. Arn. [cuts him down]. Rebel in hell-you shall obey on earth! [The Soldiers assault ARNOLD. Arn. Come on! I'm glad on't! I will show you slaves,

How you should be commanded, and who led you

First o'er the wall you were so shy to scale,
Until I waved my banners from its height,
As you are bold within it.

[ARNOLD mows down the foremost; the rest
throw down their arms.
Mercy! mercy!

Soldiers.

Arn. Then learn to grant it. Have I taught you who

Led you o'er Rome's eternal battlements?

Soldiers. We saw it, and we know it; yet forgive

A moment's error in the heat of conquest-
The conquest which you led to.

Arn.

Get you hence!

Hence to your quarters! you will find them fixed
In the Colonna palace.
Olimp. [aside].

House!

Arn. [to the soldiers].

have no further need

In my father's

Leave your arms; ye

Of such; the city's render'd. And mark well You keep your hands clean, or I'll find out a

stream

As red as Tiber now runs, for your baptism.
Soldiers. [deposing their arms and departing].
We obey!

Arn. [to OLIMPIA]. Lady, you are safe.
Olimp.

Arn.

No, thou know'st me not; I am not Of these men thoughOlimp.

I judge thee by thy mates;
It is for God to judge thee as thou art.
I see thee purple with the blood of Rome;
Take mine, 'tis all thou e'er shalt have of me,
And here, upon the marble of this temple,
Where the baptismal font baptized me God's,
I offer him a blood less holy

But not less pure (pure as it left me then,
A redeem'd infant) than the holy water
The saints have sanctified!

[OLIMPIA waves her hand to ARNOLD with disdain, and dashes herself on the pavement from the Altar.

I love but thee! Cæs.

Had I a knife even; but it matters not-
Death hath a thousand gates; and on the marble,
Even at the altar foot, whence I look down
Upon destruction, shall my head be dash'd,
Ere thou ascend it. God forgive thee, man!
Arn. I wish to merit His forgiveness, and
Thine own, although I have not injured thee.

with death.

You do me right

The devil speaks truth much oftener than he's

deem'd :

He hath an ignorant audience.

PART III.

heart beats.

Arn. Softly! Cæs. As softly as they bear the dead, Perhaps because they cannot feel the jolting. Arn. But doth she live indeed? Cæs. Nay, never fear! But, if you rue it after, blame not me. Arn. Let her but live! Cæs.

The spirit of her life
Is yet within her breast, and may revive
Count! count! I am your servant in all things,
And this is a new office :-'tis not'oft

I am employ'd in such; but you perceive
How stanch a friend is what you call a fiend.
On earth you have often only fiends for friends;
Now I desert not mine. Soft! bear her hence,
The beautiful half-clay, and nearly spirit !
I am almost enamour'd of her, as
Of old the angels of her earliest sex.
Arn. Thou!

Cas. I! But fear not. I'll not be your rival.
Arn. Rival!
Cæs.

I could be one right formidable;
But since I slew the seven husbands of
Tobias' future bride (and after all
Was suck'd out by some incense), I have laid
Aside intrigue: 'tis rarely worth the trouble
Of gaining, or-what is more difficult-
Getting rid of your prize again; for there's
The rub at least to mortals.

rounded by a wild but smiling Country. Chorus of PEASANTS singing before the gates.

Chorus. 1.

The wars are over,

The spring is come;
The bride and her lover

Have sought their home:

They are happy, we rejoice;
Let their hearts have an echo in every voice!

II.

The spring is come; the violet's gone,
The first-born child of the early sun:
With us she is but a winter's flower,

The snow on the hills cannot blast her bower,
And she lifts up her dewy eye of blue
To the youngest sky of the self-same hue.

III.

And when the spring comes with her host Of flowers, that flower beloved the most Shrinks from the crowd that may confuse Her heavenly odour and virgin hues.

IV.

Pluck the others, but still remember
Their herald out of dim December-
The morning star of all the flowers,
The pledge of daylight's lengthen'd hours.
Nor, midst the roses, e'er forget
The virgin, virgin violet.

Enter CAESAR.

Cas. [singing]. The wars are all over,
Our swords are all idle,
The steed bites the bridle.
The casque's on the wall.
There's rest for the rover;

But his armour is rusty,
And the veteran grows crusty,
As he yawns in the hall.

He drinks-but what's drinking?
A mere pause from thinking!

No bugle awakes him with life-and-death call.

Chorus.

But the hound bayeth loudly, The boar's in the wood, And the falcon longs proudly To spring from her hood: On the wrist of the noble She sits like a crest, And the air is in trouble With birds from their nest. Cæs. Oh! shadow of glory! Dim image of war