Broad eminence I was invested duke.
My services have called me up those steps,
The malice of my foes will drive me down them.
There five and thirty years ago was I
Install'd, and traversed these same halls, from
which
I never thought to be divorced except
A corse-a corse, it might be, fighting for them-
But not push'd hence by fellow-citizens.
But come; my son and I will go together-
He to his grave, and I to pray for mine.
Chief of the Ten. What! thus in public!
Doge.
I was publicly
Elected, and so will I be deposed.
Marina! art thou willing?
Mar.
Doge. And here my staff: thus propp'd will
I go forth.
Chief of the Ten. It must not be-the people will perceive it.
Doge. The people !-There's no people, you well know it,
Else you dare not deal thus by them or me.
There is a populace, perhaps, whose looks
May shame you; but they dare not groan or
curse you,
Save with their hearts and eyes.
Chief of the Ten.
Bar. I do beseech you, lean upon us! Doge. No! A sovereign should die standing. My poor boy!
Off with your arms!- That bell!
[The DOGE drops down and dies. My God! My God! Bar. [to LoR.] Behold! your work's com
Chief of the Ten. Is there then
No aid? Call in assistance!
Chief of the Ten. If it be so, at least his
Shall be such as befits his name and nation,
His rank and his devotion to the duties
Of the realm, while his age permitted him
To do himself and them full justice. Brethren,
Say, shall it not be so?
He has not had The misery to die a subject where He reign'd: then let his funeral rites be princely, Chief of the Ten. We are agreed, then? All, except LOR., answer,
Chief of the Ten. Heaven's peace be with him! Mar. Signors, your pardon: this is mockery! Juggle no more with that poor remnant, which, A moment since, while yet it had a soul, (A soul by whom you have increased your empire,
And made your power as proud as was his glory), You banish'd from his palace, and tore down From his high place, with such relentless
And now, when he can neither know these honours,
Nor would accept them if he could, you, signors,
Purpose, with idle and superfluous pomp,
To make a pageant over what you trampled.
A princely funeral will be your reproach,
And not his honour.
Chief of the Ten. Our purposes so readily.
And I can fall upon it. Yet one glance
On the fair day, which sees no foul thing like
Myself, and the sweet sun which warm'd me, but
In vain. The birds-how joyously they sing!
So let them, for I would not be lamented:
But let their merriest notes be Arnold's knell ;
The fallen leaves my monument; the murmur
Of the near fountain my sole elegy.
Now, knife, stand firmly, as I fain would fall!
[As he rushes to throw himself upon the knife,
his eye is suddenly caught by the fountain,
which seems in motion.
The fountain moves without a wind: but shall
The ripple of a spring change my resolve?
No. Yet it moves again! The waters stir,
Not as with air, but by some subterrane
And rocking power of the eternal world.
What's here? A mist! No more?-
[A cloud comes from the fountain. He stands gazing upon it: it is dispelled, and a tall
black man comes towards him.
To which you please, without much wrong to either.
But come you wish to kill yourself ;--pursue Your purpose.
You have interrupted me.
Stran. What is that resolution which can e'er Be interrupted? If I be the devil
You deem, a single moment would have made you
Mine, and for ever, by your suicide;
And yet my coming saves you.
Arn.
I said not
You were the demon, but that your approach
Was like one.
Stran. Unless you keep company
With him (and you seem scarce used to such high
Society), you can't tell how he approaches;
And for his aspect, look upon the fountain,
And then on me, and judge which of us twain
Looks likest what the boors believe to be
Their cloven-footed terror.
Arn. Do you dare you To taunt me with my born deformity:
Stran. Were I to taunt a buffalo with this Cloven foot of thine, or the swift dromedary With thy sublime of humps, the animals Would revel in the compliment. And yet
Poth beings are more swift, more strong, more
In action and endurance than thyself,
And all the fierce and fair of the same kind
With thee. Thy form is natural: 'twas only
Nature's mistaken largess to bestow
The gifts which are of others upon man.
Arn. Give me the strength then of the
buffalo's foot,
When he spurs high the dust, beholding his
Near enemy; or let me have the long
And patient swiftness of the desert-ship,
The helmless dromedary !—and I'll bear
The fiendish sarcasm with a saintly patience.
Stran. I will.
Arn. [with surprise]. Thou canst!
Stran. Perhaps. Would you aught else?
Arn. Thou mockest me.
Not I. Why should I mock What all are mocking? That's poor sport, methinks.
To talk to thee in human language (for
Thou canst not yet speak mine), the forester
Hunts not the wretched coney, but the boar,
Or wolf, or lion, leaving paltry game
To petty burghers, who leave once a year
Their walls, to fill their household cauldrons with
Such scullion prey. The meanest gibe at thee,-
Now I can mock the mightiest.
Or form you to your wish in any shape.
Arn. Oh! then you are indeed the demon, for
Nought else would wittingly wear mine.
I'll show thee The brightest which the world e'er bore, and give thee Thy choice.
was the curled, son f Clinias--wouldst thou. Invent thee with his form.
His, and all those who heir'd his very name. Arn. The phantom's bald; my quest beauty. Could I
Inherit but his fame with his defects!
Stran. His brow was girt with laurels more
than hairs.
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.
I will fight too,
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,
Or Cleopatra at sixteen-an age
When love is not less in the eye than heart.
But be it so! Shadow, pass on !
[The phantom of JULIUS CÆSAR disappears.
And can it
*This is a well-known German superstition -a gigantic shadow produced by reflection on the Brocken.
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