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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

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Form'd as thou art. I may dismiss the mould
Of shadow, which must turn to flesh, to incase
This daring soul, which could achieve no less
Without it.

Arn. 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 shoulders.
An hateful and unsightly molehill, 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 sigh-
Not of love, but despair; nor sought to win,
Though to a heart all love, what could not love me

!["Whosoever," says Lord Bacon," hath any thing fixed in his person that doth induce contempt, hath also a perpetual spur in himself to rescue and deliver himself from scorn; therefore, all deformed persons are extreme bold; first, as in their own defence, as being exposed to scorn, but in process of time by a general habit: also it stirreth in them industry, and especially of this kind, to watch and observe the weakness of others, that they may have somewhat to repay. Again, in their superiors, it quencheth jealousy towards them, as persons that they think they may at pleasure despise: and it layeth their competitors and emulators asleep, as never believing they should be in possibility of advancement till they

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; my 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.

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2 ["Lord Byron's chief incentive, when a boy, to distinct was that mark of deformity, by an acute sense of which b was first stung into the ambition of being great. In his letters to Mr. Hunt, he declares it to be his own that an addiction to poetry is very generally the result ca uneasy mind in an uneasy body; disease or deformity, adds, have been the attendants of many of our best for lins mad-Chatterton, I think, mad- Cowper mad-Poe crooked-Milton blind,' &c. &c." - MOORE]

From the red earth, like Adam, 1
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

His stand in creation!

[ARNOLD falls senseless; his soul passes into the shape of Achilles, which rises from the ground; while the phantom has disappeared, part by part, as the figure was formed from

the earth.

Arn. (in his new form). I love, and I shall be beloved! Oh life!

At last I feel thee! Glorious spirit!

Stop!

Stran. What shall become of your abandon'd garment, Yon hump, and lump, and clod of ugliness, Which late you wore, or were?

Arn.

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the earth).

Clay! not dead, but soul-less!

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

Stiff and cold!

One little, marshy spark of flame

Who cares? Let wolves

His resurrection rests with me and you!

And if

And vultures take it, if they will.

Stran. They do, and are not scared by it, you'll say It must be peace-time, and no better fare Abroad i' the fields.

Arn.

Let us but leave it there; No matter what becomes on 't.

Stran.

That's ungracious, If not ungrateful. Whatsoe'er it be, It hath sustain'd your soul full many a day.

Arn. Ay, as the dunghill may conceal a gem
Which is now set in gold, as jewels should be.

Stran. But if I give another form, it must be
For they
By fair exchange, not robbery.

Who make men without women's aid have long
Had patents for the same, and do not love

1 Adam means "red carth," from which the first man was formed.

And he again shall seem the same;

But I his spirit's place shall hold !

[An ignis-fatuus flits through the wood and rests on the brow of the body. The Stranger disappears: the body rises.

Arn. (in his new form). Oh! horrible! [thou?
Stran. (in ARNOLD's late shape). What! tremblest
Arn.

I merely shudder. Where is fled the shape
Thou lately worest?

Stran.

Not so

To the world of shadows. But let us thread the present. Whither wilt thou? Arn. Must thou be my companion? Stran.

Your betters keep worse company.

Arn.

Wherefore not?

My betters!

Stran. Oh! you wax proud, I see, of your new

form:

X

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Who bears the golden horn, and wears such bright
And blooming aspect, Huon; for he looks
Like to the lovely boy lost in the forest,
And never found till now. And for the other
And darker, and more thoughtful, who smiles not,
But looks as serious though serene as night,
He shall be Memnon, from the Ethiop king
Whose statue turns a harper once a day.
And you?

Stran. I have ten thousand names, and twice As many attributes; but as I wear

A human shape, will take a human name.

Arn. More human than the shape (though it was mine once)

I trust.

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Cæsar thou shalt be. For myself, my name
Shall be plain Arnold still.

Cas.
We'll add a title -
"Count Arnold: " it hath no ungracious sound,
And will look well upon a billet-doux.

[steed

Arn. Or in an order for a battle-field.
Cæs. (sings). To horse! to horse! my coal-black
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.

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Cas. 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 worm 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.

Arn.

And when it prospers.

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I saw him.

Cas. Arn. You! Cæs. Yes, sir. You forget I am or was Spirit, till I took up with your cast shape And a worse name. I'm Cæsar and a hunchback Now. Well the first of Cæsars was a bald-head, And loved his laurels better as a wig (So history says) than as a glory. 1 Thus The world runs on, but we'll be merry still. I saw your Romulus (simple as I am) Slay his own twin, quickborn of the same womb, Because he leapt a ditch ('twas then no wall, Whate'er it now be); and Rome's earliest cement Was brother's blood; and if its native blood Be spilt till the choked Tiber be as red As e'er 't was yellow, it will never wear The deep hue of the ocean and the earth, Which the great robber sons of fratricide Have made their never-ceasing scene of slaughter For ages. Arn. But what have these done, their far Remote descendants, who have lived in peace, The peace of heaven, and in her sunshine of Piety?

Cas. And what had they done, whom the old Romans o'erswept ? — Hark!

Arn.

They are soldiers singing

A reckless roundelay, upon the eve
Of many deaths, it may be of their own.
Cas. And why should they not sing as well as

swans ?

They are black ones, to be sure.

The crucifix

Arn.

I see, too?

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.

Arn.
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?

Caes. The city, or the amphitheatre ?
The church, or one, or all? for you confound
Both them and me.

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So, you are learn'd,

I

Cæs. In my grammar, certes. Was educated for a monk of all times, And once I was well versed in the forgotten Etruscan letters, and-were I so minded. Could make their hieroglyphics plainer than Your alphabet.

Arn.

And wherefore do you not? Cæs. It answers better to resolve the alphabet Back into hieroglyphics. Like your statesman, And prophet, pontiff, doctor, alchymist, Philosopher, and what not, they have built More Babels, without new dispersion, than The stammering young ones of the flood's dull ooze, Who fail'd and fled each other. Why? why, marry, Because no man could understand his neighbour. They are wiser now, and will not separate For nonsense. Nay, it is their brotherhood, Their Shibboleth, their Koran, Talmud, their Cabala; their best brick-work, wherewithal They build more――

Arn. (interrupting him). Oh, thou everlasting

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Cæs.

Song of the Soldiers within. The black bands came over

The Alps and their snow; With Bourbon, the rover,

They pass'd the broad Po. We have beaten all foemen,

We have captured a king,

We have turn'd back on no men,

And so let us sing!

Here's the Bourbon for ever!

Though pennyless all,

We'll have one more endeavour

At yonder old wall.

With the Bourbon we'll gather

At day-dawn before The gates, and together

Or break or climb o'er The wall on the ladder

As mounts each firm foot, Our shout shall grow gladder,

And death only be mute. With the Bourbon we'll mount o'er The walls of old Rome,

And who then shall count o'er

The spoils of each dome?

Up! up with the lily!

And down with the keys!
In old Rome, the seven-hilly,
We'll revel at ease.

Her streets shall be gory,
Her Tiber all red,

And her temples so hoary

Shall clang with our tread.

Oh, the Bourbon! the Bourbon !
The Bourbon for aye!

Of our song bear the burden!

And fire, fire away!
With Spain for the vanguard,
Our varied host comes;
And next to the Spaniard

Beat Germany's drums;

And Italy's lances

Are couch'd at their mother; But our leader from France is,

Who warr'd with his brother. Oh, the Bourbon ! the Bourbon !

Sans country or home,

We'll follow the Bourbon,
To plunder old Rome.

An indifferent song

For those within the walls, methinks, to hear.

Arn. Yes, if they keep to their chorus.

comes

Phil. Doubt not our soldiers. Were the walls of
adamant,

They'd crack them. Hunger is a sharp artillery.
Bourb. That they will falter is my least of fears.
That they will be repulsed, with Bourbon for
Their chief, and all their kindled appetites
To marshal them on were those hoary walls
Mountains, and those who guard them like the gods
Of the old fables, I would trust my Titans;-
But now
Phil. They are but men who war with mortals.
Bourb. True: but those walls have girded in great
ages,

And sent forth mighty spirits. The past earth
And present phantom of imperious Rome
Is peopled with those warriors; and methinks
They flit along the eternal city's rampart,
And stretch their glorious, gory, shadowy hands,
And beckon me away!

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