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these,

houds.

My widow'd country! Sweden! when I think | And what are fifty, what a thousand slaves, Upon thy desolation, spite of rage

Match'd to the sinew of a single arm And vengeance that would choke them-tears That strikes for liberty-that strikes to save will flow.

| His fields from fire, his infants from the sword, And 0, they are villains, ev'ry Dane of them, His couch from lust, his daughters from polPractis'd to slab and smile, to stab the babe.

lution, That smiles upon them

| And his large honors from eternal infamy? Arn. What accursed hours

| What doubt we then? Shall we, shall we Roll o'er these wretches who to fiends like stand here,

Till motives that might warm an ague's frost, In their dear liberty, have barter'd more | And nerve the coward's arm, sball poorly serve Than worlds will rate for!

To wake us to resistance?--Let us on? Gus. O Liberty, Heaven's choice prerogative! 0, yes, I read your lovely fierce impatience; True bond of law, thou social soul of property, You shall not be withheld; we will rush on Thou breath of reason, life of life itself !

themFor thee the valiant bleed. O sacred Liberty ! | This is indeed to triumph, where we hold Wing'd from the summer's snare, from flatt'ring Three kingdoms in our toil! is it not glorious, ruin,

| Thus to appal the bold, meet force with fury, Like the bold stork you seek the wintry shore, | And push yon torrent back, till every wave Leave courts, and pomps, and palaces to slaves, Flee to its fountain ?

(more Cleave to the cold and rest upon the storm. 3d Dale. On, lead uson, Gustavus; one word Upborne by thee, my soul disdain'd the terms Is but delay of conquest. Of empire offer'd at the hands of tyrants.

Gus. Take your wish. With thee I sought this fav'rite soil, with thee He who wants arms may grapple with the foe, These fav'rite sons I sought : thy sons, O Li-And so be furnish'd. You, most noble Anderson, berly!

Divide our pow'rs, and with the fam'd Olaus For e'en amid the wilds of life you lead them, Take the left route-You, Eric, great in arms! Lift their low-rafted cottage to the clouds, With the renown'd Nederbi, hold the right, Smile o'er their heaths, and from their moun-And skirt the forest down: then wheel at once, tain tops

Confess'd to view, and close up all the vale: Beam glory to the nations.

Myself, and my inost valiant cousin here, All. Liberty! Liberty !

Th' invincible Arvida, gallant Sivard, Gus. Are ye not mark'd, ye men of Dalecarlia, Arnoldus, and these hundred hardy vet'rans, Are ye not mark'd by all the circling world | Will pour directly on, and lead the onset. As the great stake, the last effort for liberty? Joy, joy, I see confess'd from ev'ry eye, Say, is it not your wealth, the thirst, the food, | Your limbs tread vig'rous, and your breasts The scope and bright ambition of your souls ? beat high! Why else have you, and your renown'd forefa- | Thin tho' our ranks, tho' scanty be our bands, thers,

[thrones | Bold are our hearts, and nervous are our hands. From the proud summit of their glitt'ring With us, truth, justice, fame, and freedom close, Cast down the mightiest of your lawful kings, Each singly equal to an host of foes: That dar'd the bold infringement? What but I feel, I feel them fill me out for fight! liberty,

years, They lift my limbs as feather'd Hermes light! Thro' the fam'd course of thirteen hundred Or like the bird of glory, tow'ring high eye! Aloof hath held invasion from your hills, Thunder within his grasp, and lightning in his And sanctified their shade? And will ye, will ye Shrink from the hopes of the expecting world; $42. Gustavus and Cristiern. Bid your high honors stoop to foreign insult;

BROOKE. And in one hour give up to infamy

Crist. Tell me, Gustavus, tell me why is The harvest of a thousand years of glory?

this, 1st Dale. No.

That, as a stream diverted from the banks 2d Dale. Nerer, never.

Of smooth obedience, thou hast drawn those 3d Dale. Perish all first.

men 4th Dale. Die all!

Upon a dry unchannell'd enterprise Gus. Yes, die by piece-meal! [umph! To turn their inundation ? Are the lives Leave not a limb o'er which a Dane may tri- Of my misguided people held so light, buke Now from my soul I joy, I joy, my friends, That ihus thou'dst push them on the keep reTo see ye fear'd; to see that e'en your foes Of guarded majesty; where justice waits, Do justice to your valors! There they be, All awful and resistless, to assert The pow'rs of kingdoms, summ'd in yonder Th' impervious rights, the sanctitude of kings, host,

And blast rebellion ! Yet kept aloof, yet trembling to assail ye. Gus. Justice, sanctitude, And, 0, when I look round and see you here, And rights ! O, patience! Rights! what rights, Of number short, but prevalent in virtue,

thou tyrant? My heart swells high, and burns for the en-Yes, if perdition be the rule of pow'r, [chiel, counter.

If wrongs give right, O then, supreme in mise True courage but from opposition grows; | Thou wert the lord, the monarch of the world,

Too narrow for thy claim. But if thou think'st | To wrath and bitterness. Ye hallow'd men, That crowns are vilely propertied, like coin, In whoin vice sanctifies, whose precepts teach To be the means, the speciality of lust, Zeal without truth, religion without virtue ; And sensual attribution; if thou think'st Who ne'er preach heaven but with a downThat empire is of titled birth or blood;

ward eye,

[loose That nature, in the proud behalf of one, That turns your souls to dross! who, shouting, Shall disenfranchise all her lordly race,

The dogs of hell upon us. Thefts and rapes, And bow her gen'ral issue to the yoke Sack'd towns, and midnight howlings thro' the Of private domination; then, thou proud one, realm, Here know me for thy king. Howe'er, be told, Receive your sanction. O, 'tis glorious misNot claim hereditary, not the trust

chief! or frank election,

When vice turns holy, puts religion on,
Not even the high anointing hand of Heaven, Assumes the robe pontifical, the eye
Can authorize oppression, give a law

Of saintly elevation, blesseth sin,
For lawless pow'r, wed faith to violation, And makes the seal of sweet oflended Heaven
On reason build misrule, or justly bind A sign of blood, a label for decrees
Allegiance to injustice. Tyranny

That hell would shrink to own. Absolves all faith; and who invades our rights, Crist. No more of this. Howe'er his own commence, can never be Gustavus, wonldst thou yet return to grace, But an usurper. But for thee, for thee And hold thy motions in the sphere of duty, There is no name. Thou hast abjur'd mankind, Acceptance might be found. Dash'd safety from thy bleak, unsocial side, Gus. Imperial spoiler! And wag'd wild war with universal nature. Give me my father, give me back my kindred! Crist. Licentious traitor! thou canst talk it Give ine the fathers of ten thousand orphans, largely.

Give me the sons in whom thy ruthless sword Who made thee umpire of the rights of kings, Has left our widows childless. Mine they were, And pow'r, prime attribute-as on thy tongue Both mine and ev'ry Swede's, whose patriot The poise of battle lay, and arms of force,

breast To throw defiance in the front of duty ? Bleeds in his country's woundings. O, thou Look round, unruly boy! thy battle comes

canst not !

[then Like raw, disjointed must'ring, feeble wrath, Thou hast outsinn'd all reck’ning! Give me A war of waters, borne against the rock | My all that's left, my gentle mother there, Of our firm continent, to fume, and chafe, And spare yon little trembler. And shiver in the toil.

Crist. Yes, on terms Gus. Mistaken man !

Of compact and submission. I come impower'd and strengthen'd in thy Gus. Ha! with thee?

[country, weakness;

Compact with thee? and mean'st thou for my For tho' the structure of a tyrant's throne For Sweden? No, so hold my heart but firm, Rise on the necks of half the suff'ring world, Altho' it wring for't, tho' blood drop for tears, Fear trembles in the cement; pray’rs, and tears, And at the sight my straining eyes start forthAnd secret corses, sap its mould'ring base, They both shall perish first. And steal the pillars of allegiance from it: Then let a single arm but dare the sway,

$ 43. Brutus and Titus. Lee. Headlong it turns, and drives upon destruction.

[ven!! Bru. Well, Titus, speak; how is it with Trol. Profane, and alien to the love of Hea

thee now? Ant thou still harden'd to the wrath divine, I would attend a while this mighty motion, That hang o'er thy rebellion? Know'st thou Wait till the tempest were quite overblown, not

That I may take thee in the calm of nature, Thou art at enmity with grace, cast out, With all thy gentler virtues brooding on thee; Made an anathema, a curse enroll'd

So hush'd a stillness, as if all the gods [ing; Among the faithful, thou and thy adherents Look'd down, and listen'd to what we were sayShorn from our holy church, and offer'd up Speak then, and tell me, O my best belov'd, ' As sacred to damnation ?

My son, my Titus, is all well again? [thing: Gus. Yes, I know,

Tit. So well, that saying howinust makeit no. When such as thou, with sacrilegious hand, So well, that I could wish to die this moment, Seize on the apostolic key of heaven,

For so my heart with powerful throbs persuades It then becomes a tool for crafty knaves

me; To shut out virtue, and unfold those gates That were indeed to make you reparation, That heaven itself had barr'd against the lusts That were, my lord, to thank you home, to die; Of avarice and ambition. Soft and sweet And that for Titus too would be most happy. As looks oi charity, or voice of lambs

Bru. How's that, my son? Would death for That bleat upon the mountain, are the words

thee be happy? Of Christian meekness! mission all divine ! Tit. Most certain, Sir; forin my grave I'scape The law of love sole mandate. But your gall, All those affronts which I in life must look for, Ye Swedish prelacy, your gall hath turn'd | All those reproaches which the eyes, and fingers, The words of sweet, but indigested peace, And tongues of Rome will daily cast upon me;

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From whom, to a soul so sensible as inine, And heal her wounded freedom with thy blood:
Each single scorn would be far worse thandying: I will ascend myself the sad tribunal,
Besides, I'scape the stings of my own consience, And sit upon my sons ; on thee, my Titus;
Which will for ever rack me with remembrance, | Behold thee suffer all the shame of death,
Haunt me by day, and torture me by night, The lictor's lashes, bleed before the people;
Casting my blotted honor in the way

Then with thy hopes, and all thy youth upor Where'er my melancholy thoughts shall guide thee, me.

See thy head taken by the common axe, Brut. But is not death a very dreadful thing? | Without a groan, without one pitying tear,

Tit. Not to a mind resolv’d. No, sir, to me If that the gods can hold me to my purpose, It seems as natural as to be born:

To make my justice quite transcend example. Groans, and convulsions, and discolor'd faces, Tit. Scourg'd like a bondman! ah! a beaten Friends weeping round us, blacksand obsequies, slave! Make it a dreadful thing; the pomp of death | But I deserve it all ; yet here I fail! Is far more terrible than death itself.

The image of this suf'ring quite unmans me; Yes, Sir, I call the pow'rs of heav'o to witness, Nor can I longer stop the gushing tears. Titus dares dii, if so you have decreed; 0, Sir! 0, Brutus ! must I call you father, Nay, he shall die with joy to honor Brutus, | Yet have no token of your tenderness ? To make your justice famous thro' the world, No sign of mercy? What, not bate me that! And fix the liberty of Rome for ever.

Can you resolve, all th' extremity Not but I must confess my weakness too; Of cruel rigor! to behold me too?" Yet it is great thus to resolve against it,

To sit unmov'd, and see me whipt to death ! To have the frailty of a mortal man,

Where are your bowels now? Is this a father? But the security of the immortal gods.

Ah, Sir, why should you make my heart suspect Brut. O Titus! Othou absolute young man! That all your late compassion was dissembled ? Thou Alatı'ring mirror of thy father's image, | How can I think that you did ever love me? Where I behold myself at such advantage Brut. Think that I love thee by my present Thou perfect glory of the Junian race!

passion, Let me endear thee once more to my bosom, By these unmanly tears, these earthquakes here, Groan an eternal farewell to thy soul;

These sighs, that twitch the very strings of life: Instead of tears, weep blood, it possible, Think that no other cause on earth can move me Blood, the heart-blood of Brutus on his child : To tremble thus, to sob, or shed a tear, For thou must die, iny Titus, die, my son; | Nor shake my solid virtue from her point, I swear the gods have doom'd thee to the grave: But Titus' death: O do not call it shameful, The violated genius of thy country

That thus shall fix the glory of the world. Rears his sad head, and passes sentence on thee: I own thy suff'rings ought t' unman me thus, This morning sun, thai lights my sorrows on To make me throw my body on the ground, To the tribunal of this horrid vengeance, To bellow like a beast, to gnaw the earth, Shall never see thee more.

To tear my hair, to curse the cruel fates, Tit. Alas, my lord!

That force a father thus to drag his bowels. Why are you mor’d thus? Why am I worth Tit. O rise, thou violated majesty! your sorrow?

Rise from the earth, or I shall beg those fates Why should the god-like Brutus shake to doom Which you would curse, to bolt me to thecentre. ine?

I now submit to all your threaten'd vengeance : Why all these trappings for a traitor's hearse? Come forth, you executioners of justice, The gods will have it so.

Nay, all your lictors, slaves, and common hangBrut. They will, iny Titus:

men, Nor heaven nor carth can have it otherwise. Come, strip me bare, unrobe me in his sight, Nay, Titus, mark: the deeper that I search, And lash me till I bleed, whip me like furies ! My harass'd soul returns the more confirm'd; And when you've scourg'd me till I foam and Methinks I see the very hand of Jove

fall, Moving the dreadful wheels of this affair, For want of spirits, grovelling in the dust, That whirl thee, like a machine, to thy fate. | Then take my head, and give it his revenge; It seerns as if the gods had pre-ordain'd it, | By all the gods, I greedily resign it! To fix the reeling spirits of the people,

Brut. No more farewell, eternally farewell! And seitle the loose liberty of Rome.

If there be gods, they will reserve a room, 'Tis fix'd ; therefore let not fancy fond thee; A throne for thee in heaven. One last embrace ! So fix'd thy death, that it is not in the powr What is it makes thy eyes thus swim again? Of gods or men to suite thee from the axe. Tit. I had forgot : be good to Teraminta Tit. The axe! O Heaven! then must I fall | When I am in ashes. so basely?

Brut. Leave her to my care.
What, shall I perish by the common hangman? See her thou must not, for thou canst not bear it.
Brut. It thou deny me this, thou giv'st me O for one more, this pull, this tug of heart-
nothing.

strings!
Yes, Titus, since the gods have so decreed Farewell for ever!
That I must lose thee, I will take the advantage Tit. O Brutus! O my father!
Of thy important fate, cement Rome's flaws, Brut. Canst thou not say farewell?

Tit. Farewell for ever!

| For safety, and for succour. I alone, Brut. Forever then! but O, my tears run o'er; / With bended bow, and quiver full of arrows, Groans choak my words, and I can speak no Hover'd about the enemy, and mark'd . more.

The road he took : then hasted to my friends ;

Whom, with a troop of fifty chosen men, 644. Lady Randolph, Lord Randolph, and I met advancing. The pursuit I led, young Norval, not known at the time to be. Till we o'ertook the spoil-encuniber'd foe. Lady Randolph's Son.

Homs. We fought and conquer'd. Ere a sword was

drawn, Lady Ran. How fares my lord ?

An arrow from my bow had pierc'd their chief, Lord Run. That it fares well, thanks to this Who wore that day the arms which now I wear. gallant youth,

Returning home in triumph, I disdain'd Whose valor sav'd ine from a wretched death. The shepherd's slothful life: and having heard As down the winding dale I walk'd alone, That our good king had summond his bold peers At the cross way four arined inen attacked me, To lead their warriors to the Carron side, Rovers I judge from the licentious camp, I left my father's house, and took with me Who would hare quickly laid Lord Randolph A chosen servant to conduct my steps : low,

Yon trembling coward, who forsook his master. Had not this brave and generous stranger come, Journeyingwith this intent, I pass'd these tow'rs; Like my good angel, in the hour ot tate, And, heaven-directed, came this day to do And, mocking danger, made my foes his own. The happy deed that gilds niy humble name. They turn'd upou him : but his active arm | Lord Ran. He is as wise as brave: was ever Struck to the ground, from whence they rose

tale Do nore,

With such a gallant modesty rehears'd? The fiercest iwo: the others fled amain, My brare deliv'rer! thou shalt enter now And left him master of the bloody field. A nobler list; and, in a monarch's sight, Sptak, Lady Randolph; upon beauty's tongue Contend with princes for the prize of fame. Dwell accents pleasing to the brave and bold. I will present thee to our Scottish king, Speak, nobic dame, and thank him for thy lord. Whose valiant spirit ever valor lov'd. Lady Ron. My lord, I cannot speak what | Ha! my Matilda! wherefore starts that tear? now I feel.

Lady Ran. I cannot say; for various affecMy heart o'erflows with gratitude to Heaven,

tions, And to this noble youth, who, all unknown And strangely mingled, in my bosom swell: To you and yours, deliberated not,

Yet each of them inay well command a tear. Nor paus d at peril-but, humanely brave, Ijoy that thou art safe ; and I adınire Fought on your side against such fearful odds. Him, and his fortunes, who hath wrought thy Hare you get learnt of him whom we should

safety ; thank,

Yea, as my mind predicts, with thine his own. Whom call the saviour of Lord Randolph's life? Obscure and friendless, he the army sought; Lord kan. I ask'd that question, and he an- Bent upon peril, in the range of death swer'd not;

Resolu'd to hunt for fame, and with his sword But I must know who my deliverer is.

To gain distinction which bis birth denied.

[To the Stranger. In this attempt unknown he might have peNorv. A low-born man, of parentage obscure, rish'd, Who nought can boast but his desire to be And gain'd with all his valor but oblivion. A soldier, and to gain a name in arms. Now grac'd by thee, his virtue serves no more Lord Ran. Whoe'er thou art, thy spirit is Beneaih despair. The soldier now of hope, ennobled

He stands conspicuous: faine and great renown By the great King of kings: thou art ordain'd Are brought within the compass of his sword. dod stamp'd a hero by the sovereign hand On this my mind reflected, whilst you spoke, Of nature! Blush not, flow'r of modesty And bless'd the wonder-working hand of HeaAs well as valor, to declare thy birth.

ven. Noru. My name is Norval: on the Grampian Lord Ran. Pious and grateful ever are thy Hills

thoughts! My father feeds his Aocks; a frugal swain, My deeds shall follow where thou point'st the Whose constant cares were to increase his store, way. And keep is only son, myself, at home. Next to myself, and equal to Glenalvon, For I had heard of battles: and I long'd In honor and command shall Norval be. To follow to the field some warlike lord ; Norv. I know not how to thank you: rude I And Heaven soon granted what my sire denied. am This moon, which rose last night round as my | In speech and manners: never till this hour shield,

Stood I in such a presence: yet, my lord, Had not yet fill'd her horns, when, by her light, | There's something in my breast which makes A band of fierce barbarians from the hills

me bold Rush'd like a torrent down upon the vale, To say, that Norval ne'er will shame thy favor. Sweeping our flocks and herds. The shepherds Lady Ran. I will be sworn thou wilt not. fled

Thou shalt be

HOME.

My knight; and ever, as thou didst to-day, | And oft each night forsakes his sullen couch,
With happy valor guard the life of Randolph. To make sad orisons for him he slew.
Lord Ran. Well hast thou spoke. Let me
forbid reply.

[To Norval.
We are thy debtors still; thy high desert $ 46. Douglas's Soliloquy in the Wood, wait-
O'ertops our gratitude. I must proceed, ing for Lady Randolph, after he was known
As was at first intended, to the camp;

to be her Son. Some of my train, I see, are speeding hither, Impatient doubtless of their lord's delay.

This is the place, the centre of the grove. Go with me, Norval; and thine eyes shall see Here stands the oak, the monarch of the wood! The chosen warriors of thy native land, How sweet and solemn is this midnight scene! Who languish for the fight, and beat the air The silver moon, unclouded, holds her way With brandish'd swords.

| Thro'skies, where I could count each liutle star. Norv. Let us begone, my lord.

The fanning west-wind scarcely stirs the leaves;

The river, rushing o'er its pebbled bed, 6 45. Young Norval informs Lord Randolph In such a place as this, at such an hour,

Imposes silence with a stilly sound. by what Means le acquired a Knowledge in If ancestry can be in aught believ'd, the Art of War.

НомЕ. Descending spirits have convers'd with man, BENEATH a mountain's brow, the most re- | And told the secrets of the world unknown.

mote And inaccessible by shepherds trod,

Eventful day! how hast thou chang'd my state! In a deep cave dug by no mortal hand, Once on the cold and winter-shaded side A hermit liv'd; a melancholy man,

Of a bleak hill mischance had rooted me, Who was the wonder of our wand'ring swains. Never to thrive, child of another soil ; Austere and lonely, cruel 10 himself,

Transplanted now to the gay sunny vale, Did they report him; the cold earth his bed, Like the green thorn of May, my fortune flow'rs. Water his drink, his food the shepherds' alms. Yeglorious stars! high heaven's resplendent host ! I went to see him; and my heart was touch'd To whom I oft have of my lot complain'd, With reverence and with pity. Mild he spake, | Hear, and record my soul's unalterd wish! And ent'ring on discourse, such stories told, Dead or alive, let me but be renown'd! As made me oft revisit his sad cell.

May Heav'n inspire some fierce gigantic Dane For he had been a soldier in his youth; To give a bold dehance to our host! And fought in famous batiles, when the peers Before he speaks it out, I will accept: Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo led, | Like Douglas conquer, or like Douglas die. Against ihe usurping infidel display'd The cross of Christ, and won the Holy Land. Pleas'd with my admiration, and the fire

$ 47. CATO. Addison. His speech struck from me, the old man would shake

ACT І. His years away, and act his young encounters :

Enter Portius and Marcus. Then, having show'd his wounds, he'd sit him down,

Por. The dawn is overcast, the morning And all the live-long day discourse of war.

low'rs, To help my fancy, in the smooth green turf And heavily in clouds brings on the day; He cut the figures of the marshall'd hosts; The great, th' important day, big with the fate Describ'd the motions, and explain'd the use Of Cato and of Rome-our father's death Of the deep column, and the lengthen'd line, Would fill up all the guilt of civil war, The square, the crescent, and phalanx firm; And close the scene of blood. Already Cæsar For all that Saracen or Christian knew

Has ravag'd more than half the globe, and sees Of war's vast art, was to this hermit known. Mankind grown thin by his destructive sword : Unhappy man!

Should he go farther, numbers would be wantReturning homewards by Messina's port,

ing Loaded with wealth and honors bravely won, To form new battles and support his crimes. A rude and boist'rous captain of the sea

Ye gods, what havoc does ambition make Fasten'd a quarrel on him. Fierce they fought; Among your works! The stranger fell; and with his dying breath, Marc. Thy steady temper, Portius, Declar'd hi name and lineage. Mighty God! Can look on guilt, rebellion, fraud, and Cæsar, The soldier cried, my brother! O my brother! In the calm lights of mild philosophy; - They exchang'd forgiveness :

| I'm tortur'd e'en to madness, when I think And happy, in my mind, was he that died; On the proud victor: ev'ry time he's pam'd For many deaths has the surviver suffer'd. Pharsalia rises to my view!- I see In the wild desert on a rock he sits,

| Th' insulting tyrani prancing o'er the field, Upon some nameless stream's untrodden banks, Strew'd with Rome's citizens, and drench'd in And ruminates all day his dreadful fate.

slaughter, At times, alas! por in his perfect mind, His horse's hoofs wet with patrician blood! Holds dialogues with his loy'd brother's ghost; O Portius! is there not some chosen curse,

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