ALEXANDER AND DIOGENES. Naming no name of friend or foe, "Ay, go thy way, thou painted thing- "And ever round thy jeweled brow A brightness on the basest things- "And night will come; and thou wilt lie With lutes to lull thee, flowers to shed A Spartan spear to guard thy rest. Dream, happy one! thy dreams will be Of danger and of perfidy; The Persian lance, the Carian club! 389 WOODMAN, spare that tree touch not a single bough! In youth it sheltered me, and I'll protect it now. 'Twas my forefather's hand that placed it near his cot; There, woodman, let it stand thy ax shall harm it not! That old familiar tree, whose glory and renown Are spread o'er land and sea and wouldst thou hack it down? When but an idle boy, I sought its grateful shade; My heart-strings round thee cling, close as thy bark, old friend! GEORGE P. MORRIS. LXXXIV.A FAREWELL. FAREWELL! but whenever you welcome the hour THE RUINS OF ROME. And still on that evening, when pleasure fills up 391 My soul, happy friends! shall be with you that night; Let fate do her worst; there are relics of joy, T. MOORE. LXXXV. THE RUINS OF ROME. O, ROME! my country! city of the soul! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones, and temples, ye, Whose agonies are evils of a day – A world is at our feet, as fragile as our clay. The Ni'o-be of nations! there she stands Of their heroic dwellers: dost thou flow, Rise, with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress! The Goth, the Christian, Time, War, Flood, and Fire, Have dealt upon the seven-hilled city's pride; They saw her glories star by star expire, And, up the steep, barbarian monarchs ride Where the car climbed the capitol; far and wide And say, "here was, or is," where all is doubly night? Alas! the lofty city! and alas! The trebly hundred triumphs! and the day That brightness in her eye she bore when Rome was free! BYRON. LXXXVI. TASSO'S CORONATION.† FOR TWO SPEAKERS. The tone of the First is loud, animated, and exultant; that of the Second, mournful and measured. FIRST SPEAKER. A TRUMPET'S note is in the sky, in the glorious Roman sky, SECOND SPEAKER. Yet his chariot lingers, Yet around his home 'Midst the joy of Rome. FIRST SPEAKER. A thousand thousand laurel-boughs are waving wide and far, flowers, To scatter o'er his path of fame bright hues in gem-like showers. * Cicero, whose first names were Marcus Tullius, is thus sometimes called in English. Tasso died at Rome (1595) on the day before that appointed for his coronation in the capitol. TASSO'S CORONATION. 393 SECOND SPEAKER. Peace! within his chamber Low the mighty lies; With a cloud of dreams on his noble brow, FIRST SPEAKER. Sing, sing for him, the lord of song, for him, whose rushing strain In mastery o'er the spirit sweeps, like a strong wind o'er the main ! Whose voice lives deep in burning hearts, for ever there to dwell, As full-toned oracles are shrined in a temple's holiest cell. The sun, the sun of Italy is pouring o'er his way, Where the old three hundred triumphs moved, a flood of golden day; Streaming through every haughty arch of the Caesar's past renown: Bring forth, in that exulting light, the conqueror for his crown! SECOND SPEAKER. Shut the proud bright sunshine From the fading sight! There needs no ray by the bed of death, Save the holy taper's light. FIRST SPEAKER. The wreath is twined, the way is strown, the lordly train are met, The streets are hung with coronals - why stays the minstrel yet? Shout! as an army shouts in joy around a royal chief — Bring forth the bard of chivalry, the bard of love and grief! SECOND SPEAKER. Silence! forth we bring him, In his last array; From love and grief the freed, the flown Way for the bier make way! -- MRS. HEMANS. |