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And heap'd with products of Sabeün' springs!
For thee Idume's spicy forests blow,

And seeds of gold in Ophir's3 mountains glow.
See heaven its sparkling portals wide display,
And break upon thee in a flood of day!

7. No more the rising sun shall gild the morn,
Nor evening Cynthia' fill her silver horn;
But lost, dissolved, in thy superior rays,
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze,
O'erflow thy courts: the Light himself shall shine
Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine!
The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away;
But fix'd His word, His saving power remains?
Thy realm forever lasts, thy own MESSIAH reigns!

155. SCENE FROM CATILINE.

In the Senate.

Cicero. Our long dispute must close.

Of this rebellion.-Lucius Catiline

POPE.

Take one proof more

1 Sa be'an, pertaining to Saba, in Arabia, celebrated for producing aromatic plants. I dù' me, or Id u' mæ a, an ancient country of western Asia, comprising the mountainous tract on the E. side of the great valleys of El-Ghor and El-Arabah, and W. and S. W. of the Dead Sea, with a portion of Arabia.- O' phir, an ancient country mentioned in the Scriptures, and renowned from the earliest times for its gold. Some suppose it to be the same as the modern Sofala; and others conjecture it was situated in the East Indies.- CYN' THI A, the moon, a name given to DIANA, derived from Mount Cynthus, her birthplace. See p. 337, note 3.- See Biographical Sketch, p. 227.-' LUCIUS SERGIUS CATILINE, the descendant of an ancient and patrician family in Rome, whose youth and manhood were stained by every vice and crime. He was prætor in B. C. 68, was governor of Africa during the following year, and returned to Rome in 66, to sue for the consulship. Disqualified for a candidate, by an impeachment for oppression in his province, and frustrated in a conspiracy to kill the new consuls, he organized the extensive conspiracy in which the scene here given occurs. The history of this conspiracy, which ended by the death of CATILINE, in a decisive battle fought early in 62, has been written by SALLUST. He was a man of great mental and physical powers, though apparently entirely destitute of moral qualities.

Has been commanded to attend the senate.

He dares not come. I now demand your votes!—
Is he condemn'd to exile?

[CATILINE comes in hastily, and flings himself on the bench; all the senators go over to the other side. Cicero [turning to CATILINE]. Here I repeat the charge, to gods and men,

Of treasons manifold;-that, but this day,
He has received dispatches from the rebels;
That he has leagued with deputies from Gaul
To seize the province; nay, has levied troops,
And raised his rebel standard:-that but now
A meeting of conspirators was held

Under his roof, with mystic rites, and oaths,
Pledged round the body of a murder'd slave.
To these he has no answer.

Catiline [rising calmly]. Conscript fathers!
I do not rise to waste the night in words;
Let that plebeian talk; 'tis not my trade;
But here I stand for right-let him show proofs-
For Roman right; though none, it seems, dare stand
To take their share with me. Ay, cluster there,
Cling to your masters; judges, Romans-slaves!
His charge is false; I dare him to his proofs.
You have my answer. Let my actions speak!

Cic. [interrupting him]. Deeds shall convince you! Has the traitor done?

Cat. But this I will avow, that I have scorn'd,

And still do scorn, to hide my sense of wrong:

Who brands me on the forehead, breaks my sword,
Or lays the bloody scourge upon my back,

Wrongs me not half so much as he who shuts

The gates of honor on me,-turning out

The Roman from his birthright; and for what? [Looking round.

To fling your offices to every slave;

Vipers that creep where man disdains to climb;

And having wound their loathsome track to the top

Of this huge moldering monument of Rome,

Hang hissing at the nobler man below.

Cic. This is his answer! Must I bring more proofs ?
Fathers, you know there lives not one of us,
But lives in peril of his midnight sword.
Lists of proscription have been handed round,
In which your general properties are made
Your murderer's hire.

[A cry is heard without-" More prisoners!" An officer enters with letters for CICERO; who, after glancing at them, sends them round the Senate. CATILINE is strongly perturbed.]

Cic. Fathers of Rome! If man can be convinced

By proof, as clear as daylight, here it is!

Look on these letters! Here's a deep-laid plot

To wreck the provinces: a solemn league,
Made with all form and circumstance.

The time

Is desperate, all the slaves are up ;-Rome shakes!
The heavens alone can tell how near our graves
We stand even here!-The name of Catiline
Is foremost in the league. He was their king.
Tried and convicted traitor! go from Rome!

Cat. [haughtily rising]. Come, consecrated lictors, from your

thrones:

[To the Senate.

Fling down your scepters :--take the rod and ax,

And make the murder as you make the law.

Cic. [interrupting him]. Give up the record of his banishment. [To an officer.

[The officer gives it to the CONSUL.]

Cat. [indignantly]. Banish'd from Rome! What's banish'd,

but set free

From daily contact of the things I loathe?

"Tried and convicted traitor!" Who says this?
Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head?
Banish'd-I thank you for 't. It breaks my chain!
I held some slack allegiance till this hour-
But now my sword's my own. Smile on, my lords!
I scorn to count what feelings, wither'd hopes,
Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs,
I have within my heart's hot cells shut up,

To leave you in your lazy dignities.

But here I stand and scoff you: here I fling
Hatred and full defiance in your face.

Your Consul's merciful.-For this, all thanks.
He dares not touch a hair of Catiline.

[The Consul reads]:-"Lucius Sergius Catiline: by the
decree of the Senate, you are declared an enemy and
alien to the State, and banished from the territory of
the Commonwealth."

The Consul. Lictors, drive the traitor from the temple! Cat. [furious]. "Traitor!" I go-but I return. This-trial! Here I devote your Senate! I've had wrongs

To stir a fever in the blood of age,

Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel.

This day's the birth of sorrows!--this hour's work

Will breed proscriptions :-look to your hearths,' my lords!
For there, henceforth, shall sit, for household gods,
Shapes hot from Tartarus !-all shames and crimes!
Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn;
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup;
Naked Rebellion, with the torch and ax,
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones;
Till Anarchy comes down on you like Night,
And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave!

[The Senators rise in tumult and cry out,

Go, enemy and parricide, from Rome!

Cic. Expel him, lictors! Clear the Senate-house!

[They surround him. Cat. [struggling through them]. I go, but not to leap the gulf

alone.

I go-but when I come, 'twill be the burst

Of ocean in the earthquake-rolling back

'Hearths (hårths).- Tår' ta rus, in Homer's Iliad, a place beneath the earth, as far below Hades as heaven is above the earth, and closed by iron gates. Later poets describe this as the place in the lower world in which the spirits of wicked men are punished for their crimes; and sometimes they use the name as synonymous with Hades, or the lower world in general.

In swift and mountainous ruin. Fare you well!
You build my funeral-pile, but your best blood

Shall quench its flame. Back, slaves! [To the lictors.]—I will [He rushes out; the scene closes. GEORGE CROLY.'

return!

156. SELECT PASSAGES IN VERSE.

I.

VOICE OF THE WIND.-HENRY TAYLOR.
THE wind, when first he rose and went abroad
Through the waste region, felt himself at fault,
Wanting a voice, and suddenly to earth.
Descended with a wafture and a swoop,
Where, wandering võl'atile, from kind to kind,
He woo'd the several trees to give him one.
First he besought the ash; the voice she lent
Fitfully, with a free and lashing change,
Flung here and there its sad uncertainties:
The aspen next; a flutter'd frivolous twitter
Was her sole tribute: from the willow came,
So long as dainty summer dress'd her out,
A whispering sweetness; but her winter note
Was hissing, dry, and reedy: lastly the pine
Did he solicit; and from her he drew
A voice so constant, soft, and lowly deep,
That there he rested, welcoming in her
A mild memorial of the occan cave
Where he was born.

II.

MINISTRATIONS OF NATURE.-COLERIDGE.
WITH other ministrations thou, O Nature,
Healest thy wandering and distemper'd child!
Thou pourest on him thy soft influences,
Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets,
Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters;
Till he relent, and can no more endure

'See p. 454, note 1.

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