[Various phantoms arise from the waters and
pass in succession before the STRANGER
and ARNOLD.

Arn. What do I see?

Stran.
The black-eyed Roman, with
The eagle's beak between those eyes which ne'er
Beheld a conqueror, or look'd along

The land he made not Rome's, while Rome became
His, and all those who heir'd his very name.
Arn. The phantom's bald; my quest is beauty.
Could I

Inherit but his fame with his defects!

Or Cleopatra at sixteen-an age
When love is not less in the eye than heart.
But be it so! Shadow, pass on!

[The shadow of JULIUS CESAR disappears.
Arn.
And can it
Be, that the man who shook the earth is gone,
And left no footstep?
Stran.
There you err.
His substance
Left graves enough, and woes enough, and fame
More than enough to track his memory;
But for his shadow, 'tis no more than yours,
Except a little longer and less crook'd
I' the sun. Behold another!

[4 second phantom passes,
Arn.
Who is he?
Stran. He was the fairest and the bravest of
Athenians. Look upon him well.

Arn.

He is

To promise that; but you may try, and find it
Easier in such a form, or in your own.

Arn. No. I was not born for philosophy,
Though I have that about me which has need on't.
Let him fleet on.

Stran.

Be air, thou hemlock-drinker! [The shadow of SOCRATES disappears: another rises.

Arn. What's here? whose broad brow and whose
curly beard

And manly aspect look like Hercules,
Save that his jocund eye hath more of Bacchus
Than the sad purger of the infernal world,
Leaning dejected on his club of conquest,
As if he knew the worthlessness of those

Stran. His brow was girt with laurels more than For whom he had fought.

hairs.

Stran.

It was the man who lost
The ancient world for love.
Arn.
I cannot blame him,
Since I have risk'd my soul because I find not
I will fight, too, That which he exchanged the earth for.
Stran.

You see his aspect-choose it, or reject.
I can but promise you his form; his fame
Must be long sought and fought for.
Arn.

But not as a mock Cæsar. Let him pass;
His aspect may be fair, but suits me not.

Stran. Then you are far more difficult to please
Than Cato's sister, or than Brutus's mother,

(1) This is a well-known German superstition-a gigantic shadow produced by reflection on the Brocken.

Since so far
You seem congenial, will you wear his features?
Arn. No. As you leave me choice, I am diffi-
cult,

If but to see the heroes I should ne'er
Have seen else on this side of the dim shore
Whence they float back before us.

Stran.

Thy Cleopatra's waiting.

Arn.

Hence, triumvir, | (To talk canonically) wax a son

[The shade of ANTONY disappears: another

rises.

Who is this?
Who truly looketh like a demigod,
Blooming and bright, with golden hair, and stature,
If not more high than mortal, yet immortal
In all that nameless bearing of his limbs,
Which he wears as the sun his rays—a something
Which shines from him, and yet is but the flashing
Emanation of a thing more glorious still.

Was he e'er human only?

Stran.

Let the earth speak,
If there be atoms of him left, or even
Of the more solid gold that form'd his urn.
Arn. Who was this glory of mankind ?
Stran.

The shame

I'll fit you still,

Fear not, my hunchback: if the shadows of
That which existed please not your nice taste,
I'll animate the ideal marble, till

Your soul be reconciled to her new garment.
Arn. Content! I will fix here.
Stran.
I must commend
Your choice. The god-like son of the sea-goddess,
The unshorn boy of Peleus, with his locks
As beautiful and clear as the amber waves
Of rich Pactolus, roll'd o'er sands of gold,
Soften'd by intervening crystal, and
Rippled like flowing waters by the wind,

All vow'd to Sperchius as they were-behold
them!

And him-as he stood by Polixena,

With sanction'd and with soften'd love, before
The altar, gazing on his Trojan bride,
With some remorse within for Hector slain
And Priam weeping, mingled with deep passion
For the sweet downcast virgin, whose young hand
Trembled in his who slew her brother.

So

He stood i' the temple! Look upon him as
Greece look'd her last upon her best, the instant
Ere Paris' arrow flew.

Arn.

I gaze upon him

As if I were his soul, whose form shall soon
Envelope mine.
Stran. You have done well. The greatest
Deformity should only barter with
The extremest beauty, if the proverb's true
Of mortals, that extremes meet.
Arn.

Come! Be quick!
I am impatient.
Stran.
As a youthful beauty
Before her glass. You both see what is not,
But dream it is what must be.

Arn.

Must I wait?

Of Anak ?
Arn.
Stran.

Why not?

Glorious ambition!
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 case
Than the adulterer's arrow through his heel,
Which Thetis had forgotten to baptize
In Styx.

Arn. Then let it be as thou deem'st best.
Stran. Thou shalt be beauteous as the thing thou
seest,

And strong as what it was, and-
Arn.

I ask not

For valour, since deformity is daring.
It is its essence to o'ertake mankind
By heart and soul, and make itself the equal-
Ay, the superior of the rest. There is
A spur in its halt movements, to become
All that the others cannot, in such things
As still are free to both, to compensate
For stepdame Nature's avarice at first.
They woo with fearless deeds the smiles of for-
tune,

And oft, like Timour, the lame Tartar, win them.

Stran. Well spoken! and thou doubtless wilt

remain

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-
A hateful and unsightly molehill, to
The eyes of happier men. 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
In turn, because of this vile crooked clog,
Which makes me lonely. Nay, I could have borne
It all, had not my mother spurned 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

Stran. No; that were a pity. But a word or And perseverance could have done, perchance

two:

His stature is twelve cubits; would you so far

Outstep these times, and be a Titan ? Or

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;

Stran. [to the late form of ARNOLD, extended on | Of the old Vandals, are at play along

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!

Is thickest, that I may behold it in
Its workings.
Stran. That's to say, where there is war
And woman in activity. Let's see!
Spain-Italy-the new Atlantic world-
Afric, with all its Moors. In very truth,

The sunny shores of the world's garden.

Arn.

How

Like gallants, on good coursers.

What, ho! my chargers! Never yet were better,
Since Phaeton was upset into the Po.

Our pages too!

Our dark-eyed pages-what may be their names?
Stran. You shall baptise them.
Arn.
What! in holy water?
Stran. Why not? The deeper sinner, better saint.
Arn. They are beautiful, and cannot, sure, be

demons.

Stran. True; the devil's always ugly; and your beauty Is never diabolical.

Arn.

I'll call him
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.

Stran. Then call me Cæsar.

Arn.

Why, that name
Belongs to empires, and has been but borne
By the world's lords.
Stran.
And therefore fittest for
The devil in disguise-since so deem me,
Unless you call me pope instead.
Arn.

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

Cæs.

We'll add a title

"Count Arnold: " it hath no ungracious sound,

There is small choice: the whole race are just now And will look well upon a billet-doux.
Tugging as usual at each other's hearts.

Arn. I have heard great things of Rome.
Stran.
A goodly choice-
And scarce a better to be found on earth,
Since Sodom was put out. The field is wide too;
For now the Frank, and Hun, and Spanish scion

Arn. Or in an order for a battle-field.
Cas. [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;