Max. Hope treads but shadowy ground, at best. Max. A guess. Julian. And yet, Priscus is right, I think : Is Hope, more certain ;) and as, Priscus says, And pictures to our fancies perfect sights, Sounds and delights celestial;-and, above all, That feeling of a limitary power, Which strikes and circumscribes the soul, and speaks Wonders beyond the world, etherial, Starry, and pure, and sweet, and never ending. I cannot think that the great Mind of man, Must perish; why, the words he utters live; Julian. Bid him come. I have not seen [NEVITTA enters.] Your hand, my good Nevitta: Well! you see We beat the Persian bravely to his camp; You'll tell 'em yet, at home, how well they ride In Syria, when we spur their horses on. Indeed-but where is Anatolius ?-Gods! Come near Nevitta. Nevit. He hath given to me Julian. Then he is dead. Great Minos! judge him kindly. He was the bravest soldier. Nevit. He is gone Julian. Anatolius-an old friend : Our fellow soldier; nay, he was to me, A tutor in the art of war. In youth, I fought beneath him; after as his fellow; I saw him strike a bounding lion once, When taller men fled trembling. He fought well Julian. Bid them come in-I thank you, Maximus, For your kind care, but it will soothe my heart To look upon my soldiers once again. There's little time to spare, and I would fain Say a few words at parting. [NEVITTA calls the Soldiers in.] Max. They are here. Julian. Welcome, my friends. Ah! raise me higher thanks. Give me a moment for recovery. - Friends, And fellow soldiers, the good season of My death is now at hand, and I discharge (As doth a ready debtor) every claim Great nature makes; for I have long been taught How much the soul is better than the clay That holds it, and that man should more rejoice I have sought ever your happiness; firm peace I could divine my fate) that I must die These are nearly the words of Julian. (A pause.) In battle.-Now unto great Jove I offer My thanks for that he hath saved me from disease, An honourable end: thus much I've tried To say but my strength fails me, and I feel His blessing on ye, is about to pass Unto the stars. Sold. Alas, Alas! Julian. Weep not. Oh! my good Soldiers, weep not. You have been Before we stain our cheeks with too much tears. Alike; but there are some (a few) to whom Sold. My Lord. Julian. Come hither, my good Marcus. Julian Marcus, you have laid A weight of gratitude upon my soul, Which it can ne'er shake off: yet be content For many seasons. Wear it near thy heart, (And through the Persian war,) like a true soldier. So hast thou done to-day. Before ye all I speak this of Fabricius: love him for it. Sold. 'Tis Julian, my great Lord. Julian. So then; my namesake. I am proud of you. A giant fellow, who perhaps had else Priscus. You're pale. Come, bid the men farewell. Nay Julian. I believe well. It must indeed be so. Farewell, my friends, Should, in my turn, stifle the words of grief Max. So it is. The mind is full Of curious changes that perplex itself. Just like the visible world; and the heart ebbs Julian. You have not The wish to live hereafter, Maximus; (Soldiers go out.) Or you would feel how poor to the Soul's eye Have I not loved and worshipped ye, and turned From other altars to bow down to yours, And will ye now desert me? I do ask, Now as I die, a word (I ask but one For all that I have done) to tell the world My faith was good. I ask ye-shall the grave Clasp us for ever in its chilling arms- And dreams-enchantments for the eye and ear And haunted Styx, where disembodied shapes Filled up with wretches who were their own slaves, And Fate, and dark Alecto and her train, 1 cannot hope it. Priscus, Maximus- A Soldier sinks before him. Jove! Max. He faints. Priscus. He does indeed, for ever: his last breath Is mingled with the winds. (Dies.) BARRY CORNWALL. THE RIVER. RIVER River! little River! Bright you sparkle on your way, River! River! swelling River! On you rush o'er rough and smooth- River! River! brimming River! Broad and deep and still as Time, River! River! rapid River! Swifter now you slip away; Swift and silent as an arrow, River! River! headlong River! Sea, that line hath never sounded, Like eternity. CAROLINE BOWLES. |