« VorigeDoorgaan »
Thou noble thing ! more dances my rapt heart Few are the hearts that have proved the truth
Be dear in their absence now.
Soft be the sleep of their pleasant hours,
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,
When we shall be far away !
THE MEETING OF THE SHIPS.
"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 baiks met on the deep mid-sea,
When calms had stilled the tide ;
A few bright days of summer glee
There found them side by side.
And voices of the fair and brave
Rose mingling thence in mirth ; When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
And sweetly floated o'er the wave
The melodies of earth.
Moonlight on that lone Indian main
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 wce tell o'er
O, brief and passing sympathies,
Like leaves together blown !
A little while such joy was cast
Over the deep's repose,
Like trumpet music rose.
FRIENDS FAR AWAY.
COUNT not the hours while their silent wings
Thus waft them in fairy flight;
Shall hallow the scene to-night.
And the colors of life are gay,
The Friends who are far away.
And proudly, freely on their way
The parting vessels bore ;
To meet — 0, nevermore !
To aid in hours of woe ;
Such ties are formed below.
S. T. COLERIDGE.
THE QUARREL OF FRIENDS.
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
And sell the mighty space of our large honors
For so much trash as may be graspéd 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,
I'll not endure it : you forget yourself,
To hedge me in ; I am a soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.
Go to ; you are not, Cassius. With Roland and Sir Leoline !
Cas. I am.
Bru. I say you are not.
Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself:
Have mind upon your health; tempt meno further.
Bru. Away, slight man !
Cas. Is't possible ? They stood aloof, the scars remaining,
Hear me, for I will speak.
Must I give way and room to your rash choler ?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares ?
Cas. O ye gods ! ye gods ! Must I endure all
BRU. All this ? ay, more : Fret, till your proud
And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?
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 bave condemned and noted Lucius Pella, CAS.
Is it come to this?
Bru. You say you are a better soldier :
Cas. You wrong me, every way you wrong me,
Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Did I say, better?
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. Cas. 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 ? Bru. The name of Cassius honors this corrup Bru. No. tion,
Cas. What! durst not tempt him ? And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. BRU.
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
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,
If you give place to accidental evils.
Bru. No man bears sorrow better :- Portia is BRU. You did.
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,
Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me. Upon what sickness ?
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.
Cas. O ye immortal gods !
Bru. Speak no more of her. Give me a bowl
of wine : To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep My spirit from mine eyes ! — There is my dagger, 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 :
pledge. 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.) 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.
THE ROYAL GUEST. BRU.
Sheath your dagger : They tell me I am shrewd with other men ; Be angry when you will, it shall have scope ;
With thee I'm slow, and difficult of speech. Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor. O Cassius, you are yokéd with a lamb
With others I may guide the car of talk : 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, 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.
Who hast the harmonies of every time ?
COMPLIMENT AND ADMIRATION.
TO MISTRESS MARGARET HUSSEY.
'Twixt the souls of friend and friend : But upon the fairest boughs,
Or at every sentence' end, Will I Rosalinda write;
Teaching all that read to know The quintessence of every sprite
Heaven would in little show. Therefore Heaven nature charged
That one body should be filled With all graces wide enlarged :
Nature presently distilled Helen's cheek, but not her heart,
Cleopatra's majesty, Atalanta's better part,
Sad Lucretia's modesty. Thus Rosalind of many parts
By heavenly synod was devised ; Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,
To have the touches dearest prized. Heaven would that she these gifts should have,
And I to live and die her slave.
PHILLIS THE FAIR.
On a hill there grows a flower,
Fair befall the dainty sweet ! By that flower there is a bower
Where the heavenly muses meet.
In that bower there is a chair,
Fringéd all about with gold, Where doth sit the fairest fair
That ever eye did yet behold.
It is Phillis, fair and bright,
She that is the shepherd's joy, She that Venus did despite,
And did blind her little boy.
Who would not that face admire ?
Who would not this saint adore ? Who would not this sight desire ?
Though he thought to see no more.
Why should this desert silent be?
For it is unpeopled ? No; Tongues I 'll hang on every tree,
That shall civil sayings show: Some, how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage; That the stretching of a span
Buckles in his sum of age : Some, of violated vows