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But I've in vain essayed it,

And feel I cannot now.

FRIEND after friend departs :

Who hath not lost a friend ? There is no union here of hearts

That finds not here an end ; Were this frail world our only rest, Living or dying, none were blest.

While memory bids me weep thee,

Nor thoughts nor words are free,
The grief is fixed too deeply
That mourns a man like thee.



Beyond the flight of time,

Beyond this vale of death, There surely is some blesséd clime

Where life is not a breath, Nor life's affections transient fire, Whose sparks fly upward to expire.

There is a world above,

Where parting is unknown; A whole eternity of love,

Formed for the good alone ; And faith beholds the dying here Translated to that happier sphere.

The half-seen memories of childish days,
When pains and pleasures lightly came and went ;
The sympathies of boyhood rashly spent
In fearful wand'rings through forbidden ways;
The vague, but manly wish to tread the maze
Of life to noble ends, - whereon intent,
Asking to know for what man here is sent,
The bravest heart must often pause, and gaze, —
The firm resolve to seek the chosen end
Of manhood's judgment, cautious and mature, —
Each of these viewless bonds binds friend to friend
With strength no selfish purpose can secure :
My happy lot is this, that all attend
That friendship which first came, and which shall

last endure,

Thus star by star declines,

Till all are passed away,
As morning high and higher shines,

To pure and perfect day ;
Nor sink those stars in empty night;
They hide themselves in heaven's own light.




(Died in New York, September, 1820.) GREEN be the turf above thee,

Friend of my better days! None knew thee but to love thee,

Nor named thee but to praise.

Tears fell, when thou wert dying,

From eyes unused to weep, And long, where thou art lying,

Will tears the cold turf steep.

Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
As e'er my conversation coped withal.

Hor. O my dear lord --

Nay, do not think I flatter :
For what advancement may I hope from thee
That no revenue hast but thy good spirits,
To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor

be flattered ? No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou

hear? Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice, And could of men distinguish, her election Hath sealed thee for herself; for thou hast been As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and blessed are

those Whose blood and judgmentare so wellco-mingled, That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger To sound what stop she please : Give me that

man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.

When hearts, whose truth was proven,

Like thine, are laid in earth, There should a wreath be woven

To tell the world their worth ;

And I, who woke each morrow

To clasp thy hand in mine, Who shared thy joy and sorrow,

Whose weal and woe were thine, –

It should be mine to braid it

Around thy faded brow,


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"My eyes are dim with childish tears,

My heart is idly stirred,
For the same sound is in my ears

Which in those days I heard.

“Thus fares it still in our decay :

And yet the wiser mind Mourns less for what Age takes away

Than what it leaves behind.

(Aufidius the Volscian to Caius Marcius Coriolanus.]

O Marcius, Marcius !
Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my

heart A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter Should from yond' cloud speak divine things, and

say, “'T is true,"I'd not believe them more than thee, All-noble Marcius. — Let me twine Mine arms about that body, where-against My grainéd ash an hundred times hath broke, And scared the moon with splinters ! Here I clip The anvil of my sword ; and do contest As hotly and as nobly with thy love, As ever in ambitious strength I did Contend against thy valor. Know thou first, I loved the maid I married ; never man Sighed truer breath ; but that I see thee here,

“The blackbird amid leafy trees,

The lark above the hill, Let loose their carols when they please,

Are quiet when they will.

“With Nature never do they wage

A foolish strife; they see A happy youth, and their old age

Is beautiful and free:


Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart | Few are the hearts that have proved the truth Than when I first my wedded mistress saw

Of their early affection's vow; Bestride my threshold, Why, thou Mars ! I tell And let those few, the beloved of youth, thee,

Be dear in their absence now. We have a power on foot; and I had purpose 10, vividly in their faithful breast Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, I Shall the gleam of remembrance play, Or lose mine arm for 't. Thou hast beat me out Like the lingering light of the crimson west, Twelve several times, and I have nightly since When the sunbeam hath passed away! Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me, We have been down together in my sleep, Soft be the sleep of their pleasant hours, Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, And calm be the seas they roam ! And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy May the way they travel be strewed with flowers, Marcius,

| Till it bring them in safety home! Had we no other quarrel else to Rome, but that | And when we whose hearts are o'erflowing thus Thou art thence banished, we would muster all | Ourselves may be doomed to stray, From twelve to seventy; and, pouring war

May some kind orison rise for us,
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,

When we shall be far away!
Like a bold flood o'erbear. O, come! go in,
And take our friendly senators by th' hands;
Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,

Who am prepared against your territories,
Though not for Rome itself.

"We take each other by the hand, and we exchange a few A thousand welcomes ! |

words and looks of kindness, and we rejoice together for a few

short moments; and then days, months, years intervene, and we And more a friend than e'er an enemy;

see and know nothing of each other." -- WASHINGTON IRVING. Yet, Marcius, that was much.

Two barks met on the deep mid-sea,

When calms had stilled the tide;

A few bright days of summer glee
WHEN TO THE SESSIONS OF SWEET There found them side by side.

And voices of the fair and brave

Rose mingling thence in mirth ;

And sweetly floated o'er the wave
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought

The melodies of earth.
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,

Moonlight on that lone Indian main
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste.

Cloudless and lovely slept; Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,

While dancing step and festive strain For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,

Each deck in triumph swept. And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe, And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight. And hands were linked, and answering eyes Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,

With kindly meaning shone ; And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er

O, brief and passing sympathies,
The sad account of fore-bemoanéd moan,

Like leaves together blown!
Which I new pay, as if not paid before ;
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, A little while such joy was cast
All losses are restored, and sorrows end.

Over the deep's repose,
Till the loud singing winds at last

Like trumpet music rose.



And proudly, freely on their way

The parting vessels bore ;
In calm or storm, by rock or bay,

To meet -0, nevermore !

Count not the hours while their silent wings

Thus waft them in fairy flight;
For feeling, warm from her dearest springs,

Shall hallow the scene to-night.
And while the music of joy is here,

And the colors of life are gay,
Let us think on those that have loved us dear,

The Friends who are far away.

Never to blend in victory's cheer,

To aid in hours of woe ;
And thus bright spirits mingle here,
Such ties are formed below.





| Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,

And sell the mighty space of our large honors FROM “CHRISTABEL."

For so much trash as may be grasped thus?

I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, ALAS ! they had been friends in youth :

Than such a Roman. But whispering tongues can poison truth;

Brutus, bay not me, And constancy lives in realms above ;

| I'll not endure it : you forget yourself, And life is thorny; and youth is vain ;

To hedge me in ; I am a soldier, I,
And to be wroth with one we love ?

Older in practice, abler than yourself
Doth work like madness in the brain)

To make conditions.
And thus it chanced, as I divine,


Go to ; you are not, Cassius. With Roland and Sir Leoline !

Cas. I am.
Each spoke words of high disdain

Bru. I say you are not.
And insult to his heart's best brother;

Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself: They parted, — ne'er to meet again !

Have mind upon your health; tempt meno further. But never either found another

Bru. Away, slight man ! To free the hollow heart from paining.

Cas. Is 't possible? They stood aloof, the scars remaining,


Hear me, for I will speak. Like cliffs which had been rent asunder;

Must I give way and room to your rash choler ? A dreary sea now flows between,

Shall I be frighted when a madman stares ? But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder

Cas. O ye gods ! ye gods ! Must I endure all Shall wholly do away, I ween,

this? The marks of that which once hath been.

BRU. All this ? ay, more : Fret, till your proud

heart break;
Go, show your slaves how choleric you are,

And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? THE QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND

Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch

Under your testy humor? By the gods,

You shall digest the venom of your spleen,

Though it do split you ; for from this day forth Cas. That you have wronged me doth appear I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, in this :

| When you are waspish. You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella, Cas.

Is it come to this? For taking bribes here of the Sardians ;

BRU. You say you are a better soldier : Wherein my letters, praying on his side,

Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, Because I knew the man, were slighted off. And it shall please me well : For mine own part, Bru. You wronged yourself to write in such a I shall be glad to learn of noble men.

| Cas. You wrong me, every way you wrong me, Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet

Brutus ;
That every nice offence should bear his comment. I said an elder soldier, not a better;

Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Did I say, better?
Åre much condemned to have an itching palm, BRU.

If you did, I care not. To sell and mart your offices for gold,

Cas. When Cæsar lived, he durst not thus To undeservers.

have moved me. I an itching palm ?

Bru. Peace, peace ! you durst not so have You know that you are Brutus that speak this, tempted him. Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. Cas. I durst not ? Beu. The name of Cassius honors this corrup BRU. No. tion,

Cas. What! durst not tempt him ? And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. || BRU.

For your life you durst not. CAS. Chastisement !

Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love ; BRU. Remember March, the ides of March re- I may do that I shall be sorry for. member!

Bru. You have done that you should be sorry Did not great Julius bleed for justice sake ?

What villain touched his body, that did stab, There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats ;
And not for justice? What ! shall one of us, For I am armed so strong in honesty,
That struck the foremost man of all this world, That they pass by me as the idle wind,
But for supporting robbers, — shall we now | Which I respect not. I did send to you


For certain sums of gold, which you denied me; - | Cas.

O Brutus ! For I can raise no money by vile means :


What's the matter? By Heaven, I had rather coin my heart,

Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring me, From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash, When that rash humor which my mother gave me By any indirection. I did send

Makes me forgetful ? To you for gold to pay my legions,

Bru. Yes, Cassius ; and from henceforth, Which you denied me : Was that done like Cassius? When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, Should I have answered Caius Cassius so? | He 'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, To lock such rascal counters from his friends, Bru. O Cassius! I am sick of many griefs. Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, Cas. Of your philosophy you make no use, Dash him to pieces !

| If you give place to accidental evils. Cas. I denied you not.

Bru. No man bears sorrow better :- Portia is BRU. You did.

dead. Cas.

I did not :- he was but a fool Cas. Ha! Portia ? That brought my answer back. - Brutus hath Bru. She is dead. rived my heart :

Cas. How 'scaped I killing, when I crossed you A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,

But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. O insupportable and touching loss !-

BRU. I do not, till you practise them on me. Upon what sickness ?
CAS. You love me not.


Impatient of my absence, BRU,

I do not like your faults. And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. Have made themselves so strong ; - for with her BRU. A flatterer's would not, though they do death appear

That tidings came ; — with this she fell distract, As huge as high Olympus.

And, her attendants absent, swallowed fire. Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, CAS. And died so ? come,

BRU. Even so.
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,

Cas. O ye immortal gods !
For Cassius is a-weary of the world :
Hated by one he loves ; braved by his brother; Enter Lucius, with wine and tapers.
Checked like a bondman; all his faults observed,
Set in a note-book, learned and conned by rote,

Bru. Speak no more of her. — Give me a bowl To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep

of wine :My spirit from mine eyes ! — There is my dagger,

or In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. (Drinks.) And here my naked breast; within, a heart

Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold : If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth;

Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup; I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart.

I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. (Drinks.)

SHAKESPEARE. Strike as thou didst at Cæsar; for I know, When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov’dst

him better
Than ever thou lov’dst Cassius.

Sheath your dagger : THEY tell me I am shrewd with other men ;
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor.

With thee I'm slow, and difficult of speech.

With others I may guide the car of talk :
O Cassius, you are yokéd with a lamb
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire ;

Thou wing'st it oft to realms beyond my reach. Who, much enforcéd, shows a hasty spark,

If other guests should come, I'd deck my hair, And straight is cold again.

And choose my newest garment from the shelf ; CAS.

Hath Cassius lived when thou art bidden, I would clothe my heart To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, I With holiest purpose, as for God himself. When grief, and blood ill-tempered, vexeth him?

Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too. For them I while the hours with tale or song, Cas. Do you confess so much ? Give me your Or web of fancy, fringed with careless rhyme ; hand.

But how to find a fitting lay for thee, BRU. And my heart too.

1 Who hast the harmonies of every time?

pledge. —


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