And execute ere thought be half aware:
Whate'er might Kaled's be, it was enow
To seal his lip, but agonise his brow.
He gazed on Ezzelin till Lara cast
That sidelong smile upon the knight he past;
When Kaled saw that smile his visage fell,
As if on something recognised right well:
His memory read in such a meaning more
Than Lara's aspect unto others wore :
Forward he sprung—a moment, both were gone,
And all within that hall seemed left alone;
Each had so fixed his eye on Lara's mien,
All had so mixed their feelings with that scene,
That when his long dark shadow through the porch
No more relieves the glare of yon high torch,
Each pulse beats quicker, and all bosoms seem
To bound as doubting from too black a dream,
Such as we know is false, yet dread in sooth,
Because the worst is ever nearest truth.
And they are gone-but Ezzelin is there,
With thoughtful visage and imperious air;
But long remained not; ere an hour expired
He waved his hand to Otho, and retired.
The crowd are gone, the revellers at rest;
The courteous host, and all-approving guest,
Again to that accustomed couch must creep
Where Joy subsides, and Sorrow sighs to sleep,
66 Strange things I have in head, that will to hand, Which must be acted, ere they may be scanned." Macbeth, act iii. sc. 4, lines 139, 140.]
And Man, o'erlaboured with his Being's strife,
Shrinks to that sweet forgetfulness of life:
There lie Love's feverish hope, and Cunning's guile,"
Hate's working brain, and lulled Ambition's wile;
O'er each vain eye Oblivion's pinions wave,
And quenched Existence crouches in a grave.il.
What better name may Slumber's bed become?
Night's sepulchre, the universal home,
Alike in naked helplessness recline;
Glad for a while to heave unconscious breath,
Yet wake to wrestle with the dread of Death,
And shun-though Day but dawn on ills increased-
That sleep,-the loveliest, since it dreams the least.
i. There lie the lover's hope-the watcher's toil.-[MS.]
ii. And half-Existence melts within a grave.--[MS.]
NIGHT wanes-the vapours round the mountains curled1
Melt into morn, and Light awakes the world,
Man has another day to swell the past,
And lead him near to little, but his last;
But mighty Nature bounds as from her birth,
The Sun is in the heavens, and Life on earth; 2
Flowers in the valley, splendour in the beam,
Health on the gale, and freshness in the stream.
Immortal Man! behold her glories shine,
And cry, exulting inly, "They are thine !"
Gaze on, while yet thy gladdened eye may see:
A morrow comes when they are not for thee:
And grieve what may above thy senseless bier,
Nor earth nor sky will yield a single tear;
Nor cloud shall gather more, nor leaf shall fall,
Nor gale breathe forth one sigh for thee, for all; 3
"Now slowly melting into day,
Vapour and mist dissolved away."
Sotheby's Constance de Castile, Canto III. stanza v. lines 17, 18.] 2. [Compare the last lines of Pippa's song in Browning's Pippa Passes
"God's in His Heaven, all's right with the world!"]
3. [Mr. Alexander Dyce points out the resemblance between these lines and a passage in one of Pope's letters to Steele (July 15,
But creeping things shall revel in their spoil,
And fit thy clay to fertilise the soil.
'Tis morn-'tis noon-assembled in the hall,
The gathered Chieftains come to Otho's call;
'Tis now the promised hour, that must proclaim
The life or death of Lara's future fame;
And Ezzelin his charge may here unfold,"
And whatsoe'er the tale, it must be told.
His faith was pledged, and Lara's promise given, 670
To meet it in the eye of Man and Heaven.
Why comes he not? Such truths to be divulged,
Methinks the accuser's rest is long indulged.
The hour is past, and Lara too is there,
With self-confiding, coldly patient air;
Why comes not Ezzelin? The hour is past,
And murmurs rise, and Otho's brow's o'ercast.
I know my friend! his faith I cannot fear,
If yet he be on earth, expect him here;
The roof that held him in the valley stands
Between my own and noble Lara's lands;
My halls from such a guest had honour gained,
Nor had Sir Ezzelin his host disdained,
But that some previous proof forbade his stay,
And urged him to prepare against to-day ;
The word I pledged for his I pledge again,
Or will myself redeem his knighthood's stain."
1712, Works, 1754, viii. 226): "The morning after my exit the sun will rise as bright as ever, the flowers smell as sweet, the plants spring as green."]
He ceased-and Lara answered, "I am here
To lend at thy demand a listening ear
Whose words already might my heart have wrung,
To tales of evil from a stranger's tongue,
But that I deemed him scarcely less than mad,
Or, at the worst, a foe ignobly bad.
I know him not-but me it seems he knew
In lands where--but I must not trifle too:
Produce this babbler-or redeem the pledge;
Here in thy hold, and with thy falchion's edge.” i
Proud Otho on the instant, reddening, threw
His glove on earth, and forth his sabre flew.
"The last alternative befits me best,
And thus I answer for mine absent guest."
With cheek unchanging from its sallow gloom,
However near his own or other's tomb ;
With hand, whose almost careless coolness spoke
Its grasp well-used to deal the sabre-stroke;
With eye, though calm, determined not to spare,
Did Lara too his willing weapon bare.
In vain the circling Chieftains round them closed,
For Otho's frenzy would not be opposed;
And from his lip those words of insult fell—
His sword is good who can maintain them well.
Short was the conflict; furious, blindly rash,
Vain Otho gave his bosom to the gash:
He bled, and fell; but not with deadly wound,
Stretched by a dextrous sleight along the ground.
|