To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield
To Christian intercessors. Follow not;
I'll have no speaking! I will have my bond.
Would he were fatter; but I fear him not:
Yet, if my name were liable to fear,
I do not know the man I should avoid
So soon as this spare Cassius. He reads much;
He is a great observer, and he looks
Quite through the deeds of men.
He loves no plays; he hears no music;
Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort,
As if he mocked himself, and scorned his spirit,
That could be moved to smile at any thing.
Such men as he be never at heart's ease
While they behold a greater than themselves,
And therefore are they very dangerous.
Shame! shame! that in such a proud moment of life,
Worth ages of history,-when, had you but hurl'd
One bolt at your bloody invader, that strife
Between freemen and tyrants had spread through the world,— That then,-O disgrace upon manhood!-e'en then
You should falter,--should cling to your pitiful breath,Cower down into beasts, when you might have stood men, And prefer a slave's life to a glorious death!
A fearful hope-was all-the world contained:
Forests were set on fire; but, hour by hour,
They fell, and faded, and the crackling trunks
Extinguished with a crash, and all was black.
The brows of men, by the despairing light,
Wore an unearthly aspect, as, by fits,
The flashes fell upon them. Some lay down,
And hid their eyes, and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil'd:
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then, again,
With curses, cast them down upon the dust,
And gnashed their teeth, and howled.
Still "Onward!" was his stern exclaim;
"Charge on the battery's jaws of flame!
Rush on the level gun!
Each Hulan forward with his lance!
My steel-clad cuirassiers advance!
My guard, my chosen, charge for France!
France and Napoleon!"
I am giddy expectation whirls me round.
The imaginary relish is so sweet
That it enchants my sense: what will it be,
When that the watery palate tastes indeed
Love's thrice reputed nectar? Death, I fear me;
Swooning destruction; or some joy too fine,
Too subtle potent, tuned too sharp in sweetness,
For the capacity of my ruder powers;
I fear it much; and I do fear, besides,
That I shall lose distinction in my joys;
As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps
The enemy flying.
My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse;
And all my powers do their bestowing lose,
Like vassalage at unawares encountering
The eye of majesty.
Would that he yet might live! even now I heard The legate's followers whisper, as they passed, They had a warrant for his instant death;
All was prepared by unforbidden means,
Which we must pay so dearly, having done;
Even now they search the tower, and find the body,
Now they suspect the truth; now they consult
Before they come to tax us with the fact;
O, horrible! 't is all discovered!
Dare nobly, then; but, conscious of your trust,
As ever warm and bold, be ever just;
Nor court applause in these degenerate days—
The villain's censure is extorted praise.
But chief, be steady in a noble end,
And show mankind that truth has yet a friend.
'Tis mean for empty praise of wit to write,
As foplings grin to show their teeth are white;
To brand a doubtful folly with a smile,
Or madly blaze unknown defects, is vile:
'Tis doubly vile, when, but to prove your art,
You fix an arrow in a blameless heart.
When all is known, the darkest fate
The smitten heart may learn to bear,
And feel, when time can not abate,
The settled calmness of despair;
But who can well endure the grief-
Which knows no refuge or defense,
That age of pain, in moments brief-
The untold anguish of suspense!
When once the first rude shock is past,
The heart may still the storm outride,
As, from the wreck around it cast,
It finds support to breast the tide;
But thus to linger day by day,
A prey to that foreboding sense
Which gives a pang to each delay,
And agonizes with suspense!
Last, came Joy's ecstatic trial:
He, with viny crown advancing,
First to the lively pipe his hand addressed:
But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol,
Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best.
They would have thought, who heard the strain,
They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids,
Amid the festal-sounding shades,
To some unwearied minstrel dancing;
While as his flying fingers kissed the strings,
Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round:
Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound,
And he amid his frolic play,
As if he would the charming air repay,
Shook thousand odors from his dewy wing.
Every thing contains within itself
The seeds and sources of its own corruption;
The cankering rust corrodes the brightest steel:
The moth frets out your garment, and the worm
Eats its slow way into the solid oak:
But envy, of all evil things the worst,
The same to-day, to-morrow, and forever,
Saps and consumes the heart in which it works.
When all thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view, I'm lost
In wonder, love, and praise.
Unnumbered comforts to my soul
Thy tender care bestowed,
Before my infant heart conceived
From whom those comforts flowed.
When in the slippery paths of youth
With heedless steps I ran,
Thine arm, unseen, conveyed mẹ safe,
And led me up to man.
Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ;
Nor is the least a cheerful heart,
That tastes those gifts with joy.
Through every period of my life,
Thy goodness I'll pursue;
And after death, in distant worlds,
The glorious theme renew.
If they but speak the truth of her,
These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honor,
The proudest of them shall well hear of it.
Time hath not so dried this blood of mine,
Nor age so eat up my invention,
Nor fortune made such havoc of my means,
Nor my bad life 'reft me so much of friends
But they shall find awaked, in such a kind,
Both strength of limb and policy of mind,
Ability in means, and choice of friends,
To quit me of them thoroughly.
All's for the best! be sanguine and cheerful,
Trouble and Sorrow are friends in disguise;
Nothing but Folly goes faithless and fearful,
Courage forever is happy and wise:
All's for the best-if a man would but know it,
Providence wishes us all to be blest;
This is no dream of the pundit or poet,
Heaven is gracious, and-All's for the best!
All's for the best! set this on your standard,
Soldier of sadness, or pilgrim of love,
Who to the shores of Despair may have wandered,
A way-wearied swallow, or heart-stricken dove;
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