I saw your Romulus (simple as I am) Slay his own twin, quick-born of the same womb,

Because he leapta ditch ('twas then no wall, Whate'er it now be); and Rome's earliest

cement

Was brother's blood; and if its native blood
Be spilt till the choked Tiber be as red
As e'er 'twas yellow, it will never wear
The deep hue of the Ocean and the Earth,
Which the great robber-sons of Fratricide
Have made their never-ceasing scene of
slaughter

For ages.

Arnold. But what have these done,their far Remote descendants, who have lived in peace,

The peace of heaven, and in her sunshine of Piety?

Cæsar. And what had they done, whom the old

Romans o'erswept?-Hark!

Arnold. They are soldiers singing
A reckless roundelay, upon the eve
Of many deaths, it may be of their own.
Cæsar. And why should they not sing
as well as swans?

They are black ones, to be sure.
Arnold. So, you are learn'd,
I see, too.

Cæsar. In my grammar, certes. I
Was educated for a monk of all times,
And once I was well versed in the forgotten
Etruscan letters, and--were I so minded-
Could make their hieroglyphics plainer than
Your alphabet.

Arnold. And wherefore do you not?

Cæsar. It answers better to resolve the alphabet

Back into hieroglyphics. Like your states

man,

And prophet, pontiff, doctor, alchymist, Philosopher, and what not, they have built More Babels without new dispersion, than The stammering young ones of the Flood's dull ooze,

Who failed and fled each other. Why? why, marry,

Because no man could understand his neighbour.

They are wiser now, and will not separate For nonsense. Nay, it is their brotherhood, Their Shibboleth,their Koran,Talmud, their Cabala; their best brick-work wherewithal They build more—

Arnold (interrupting him). Oh, thou everlasting sneerer!

Be silent! How the soldiers' rough strain

seems

Softened by distance to a hymn-like cadence! Listen!

Cæsar. Yes. I have heard the Angels sing. Arnold. And Demons howl.

Cæsar. And Man too. Let us listen: I love all music.

Song of the Soldiers within.

The Black Bands came over

The Alps and their snow, With Bourbon, the rover,

They past the broad Po.
We have beaten all foemen,
We have captured a king,
We have turned back on no men,
And so let us sing!

Here's the Bourbon for ever!

Though penniless all,
We'll have one more endeavour
At yonder old wall.

With the Bourbon we'll gather
At day-dawn before
The gates, and together

Or break or climb o'er
The wall: on the ladder

As mounts each firm foot,
Our shout shall grow gladder,
And death only be mute.
With the Bourbon we'll mount o'er
The walls of old Rome,

And who then shall count o'er
The spoils of each dome?
Up! up! with the lily!

And down with the keys!
In old Rome, the Seven-hilly,
We'll revel at ease.
Her streets shall be gory,
Her Tiber all red,
And her temples so hoary
Shall clang with our tread.
Oh, the Bourbon! the Bourbon!
The Bourbon for aye!

Of our song bear the burthen!
And fire, fire away!
With Spain for the vanguard,
Our varied host comes?
And next to the Spaniard

Beat Germany's drums;
And Italy's lances

Are couched at their mother;
But our leader from France is,
Who warred with his brother.
Oh, the Bourbon! the Bourbon!
Sans country or home,
We'll follow the Bourbon,

To plunder old Rome.
Cæsar. An indifferent song

For those within the walls,methinks, to hear. Arnold. Yes, if they keep to their chorus. But here comes

The General with his chiefs and men of trust.

A goodly rebel!

Enter the Constable BOURBON, cum suis. Philibert. How now, noble Prince, You are not cheerful?

Bourbon. Why should I be so?
Phil. Upon the eve of conquest, such

as ours,
Most men would be so.

Bourbon. If I were secure!

Phil. Doubt not our soldiers. Were the walls of adamant,

They'd crack them. Hunger is a sharp artillery.

Bourbon. That they will falter is my least of fears.

That they will be repulsed, with Bourbon for Their chief, and all their kindled appetites To marshal them on- —were those hoary walls Mountains, and those who guard them like the Gods

Of the old fables, I would trust my Titans ;— But now

Phil. They are but men who war with mortals.

Bourbon. True: but those walls have

girded in great ages,

And sent forth mighty spirits. The past earth And present Phantom of imperious Rome Is peopled with those warriors; and methinks They flit along the eternal city's rampart, And stretch their glorious, gory, shadowy hands,

And beckon me away!

Welcome the bitter Hunchback! and his Master,

The beauty of our host, and brave as beauteous,

And generous as lovely. We shall find
Work for you both ere morning.
Cæsar. You will find,

So please your Highness, no less for yourself. Bourbon. And if I do, there will not be a labourer

More forward, Hunchback!

Cæsar. You may well say so, For you have seen that back-as general, Placed in the rear in action-but your foes Have never seen it.

Bourbon. That's a fair retort,

For I provoked it:- but the Bourbon's breast
Has been, and ever shall be, far advanced
In danger's face as yours, were you the Devil.
Cæsar. And if I were, I might have saved
myself

The toil of coming here.
Phil. Why so?
Cæsar. One half

dows?

Will go to him, the other half be sent,
More swiftly, not less surely.

Bourbon. Arnold, your

Slight crooked friend's as snake-like in his words

As his deeds.

Casar. Your Highness much mistake me. The first snake was a flatterer - I am none; And for my deeds, I only sting when stung. Bourbon. You are brave, and that's enough for me; and quick In speech as sharp in action – and that's more. I am not alone a soldier, but the soldiers' Comrade.

Casar. They are but bad company, your Highness;

And worse even for their friends than foes, as being

More permanent acquaintance.
Phil. How now, fellow!

the walls

Of a buffoon.

O'er the city high and holy:
But without there is a din
Should arouse the Saints within,
And revive the heroic ashes
Round which yellow Tiber dashes.
Oh ye seven hills! awaken,
Ere your very base be shaken!

Hearken to the steady stamp!
Mars is in their every tramp!
Not a step is out of tune,

As the tides obey the moon!

On they march, though to self-slanghter,
Regular as rolling water,

Whose high waves o'ersweep the border
Of huge moles, but keep their order,
Breaking only rank by rank.
Hearken to the armour's clank!
Look down o'er each frowning warrior,
How he glares upon the barrier:
Look on each step of each ladder,
As the stripes that streak an adder.

Look upon the bristling wall,
Mann'd without an interval!
Round and round, and tier on tier,
Cannon's black mouth, shining spear,
Lit match, bell-mouth'd musquetoon,
Gaping to be murderous soon.
All the warlike gear of old,
Mix'd with what we now behold,
In this strife 'twixt old and new,
Gather like a locusts' crew.
Shade of Remus! 'tis a time
Awful as thy brother's crime!
Christians war against Christ's shrine :—
Must its lot be like to thine?

Near-and near-nearer still,
As the earthquake saps the hill,
First with trembling, hollow motion,
Like a scarce-awaken'd ocean,
Then with stronger shock and louder,
Till the rocks are crush'd to powder,-
Onward sweeps the rolling host!
Heroes of the immortal boast!
Mighty Chiefs! Eternal Shadows!
First flowers of the bloody meadows
Which encompass Rome, the mother
Of a people without brother!
Will you sleep when nations' quarrels
Plough the root up of your laurels?
Ye who wept o'er Carthage burning,
Weep not-strike! for Rome is mourning!
Onward sweep the varied nations!
Famine long hath dealt their rations.
To the wall, with Hate and Hunger,
Numerous as wolves, and stronger,

On they sweep. Oh! glorious city,
Must thou be a theme for pity!
Fight, like your first sire, each Roman!
Alaric was a gentle foeman,

Match'd with Bourbon's black banditti!
Rouse thee, thou eternal City!

Rouse thee! Rather give the porch
With thy own hand to thy torch,
Than behold such hosts pollute
Your worst dwelling with their foot.

Ah! behold yon bleeding Spectre!
Ilion's children find no Hector;
Priam's offspring loved their brother;
Roma's sire forgot his mother,
When he slew his gallant twin,
With inexpiable sin.

See the giant-shadow stride
O'er the ramparts high and wide!
When he first o'erleapt thy wall,
Its foundation mourn'd thy fall.
Now, though towering like a Babel,
Who to stop his steps are able?
Stalking o'er thy highest dome,
Remus claims his vengeance, Rome!

Now they reach thee in their anger:
Fire, and smoke, and hellish clangor
Are around thee, thou world's Wonder!
Death is in thy walls and under.
Now the meeting steel first clashes;
Downward then the ladder crashes,
With its ion load all gleaming,
Lying at its foot blaspheming!
Up again! for every warrior
Slain, another climbs the barrier.
Thicker grows the strife: thy ditches
Europe's mingling gore enriches.
Rome! Although thy wall may perish,
Such manure thy fields will cherish,
Making gay the harvest-home;
But thy hearths, alas! oh, Rome!-
Yet be Rome amidst thine anguish,
Fight as thou wast wont to vanquish!

Yet once more, ye old Penates!
Let not your quenched hearths be Ate's!
Yet again, ye shadowy heroes,
Yield not to these stranger Neroes!
Though the Son who slew his mother,
Shed Rome's blood, he was your brother:
'Twas the Roman curb'd the Roman:-
Brennus was a baffled foeman.
Yet again, ye Saints and Martyrs,
Rise, for yours are holier charters.
Mighty Gods of temples falling,
Yet in ruin still appalling!
Mightier founders of those altars,
True and Christian,-strike the assaulters!
Tiber! Tiber! let thy torrent
Show even Nature's self abhorrent.
Let each breathing heart dilated
Turn, as doth the lion baited!
Rome be crush'd to one wide tomb,
But be still the Roman's Rome!

BOURBON, ARNOLD, CESAR, and others, arrive at the foot of the wall. ARNOLD is about to plant his ladder.

Bourbon. Hold, Arnold: I am first
Arnold. Not so, my Lord.

vengeance!

Bourbon. 'Tis nothing—lend me your hand.

[Bourbon takes Arnold by the hand and rises; but as he puts his foot on the step, falls again. Arnold! I am sped. Conceal my fall-all will go wellconceal it!

Fling my cloak o'er what will be dust anon; Let not the soldiers see it.

Arnold. You must be Removed; the aid of

Bourbon. No, my gallant boy; Death is upon me. But what is one life? The Bourbon's spirit shall command them still.

Keep them yet ignorant that I am but clay, Till they are conquerors - then do as you may.

Cæsar. Would not your Highness choose to kiss the cross?

We have no priest here, but the hilt of sword May serve instead:-it did the same for Bayard.

Bourbon. Thou bitter slave! to name him at this time!

But I deserve it.

Arnold (to Cæsar). Villain, hold your
peace!

Cæsar. What, when a Christian dies?
Shall I not offer

A Christian "Vade in paee?”

Arnold. Silence! Oh!

Those eyes are glazing, which o'erlook'd the world,

And saw no equal.

Bourbon. Arnold, shouldst thou see France-But hark! hark! the assault grows warmer-Oh!

For but an hour, a minute more of life To die within the wall! Hence, Arnold! hence!

You lose time-they will conquer Rome without thee.

Arnold. And without thee!

Bourbon. Not so; I'll lead them still
In spirit. Cover up my dust, and breathe not
That I have ceased to breathe. Away! and be
Victorious!

Arnold. But I must not leave thee thus.
Bourbon. You must-farewell-Up! up!

Arnold. True. I'll weep hereafter.

[Arnold covers Bourbon's body with a mantle, and mounts the ladder, crying: The Bourbon! Bourbon! On boys! Rome is ours!

A

Cæsar. Good night, Lord Constable! thou wert a man.

[Cæsar follows Arnold; they reach the battlement; Arnold and Cæsar are struck down.

precious somerset! Is your Countship injured?

Arnold. No. [Remounts the ladder. Cæsar. A rare blood-hound, when his own is heated!

And 'tis no boy's-play. Now he strikes them down!

His hand is on the battlement-he grasps it As though it were an altar; now his foot Is on it, and -What have we here, a Roman? [A man falls.

The first bird of the covey! he has fall'n On the outside of the nest. Why, how now, fellow ?

The wounded Man. A drop of water! Cæsar. Blood's the only liquid Nearer than Tiber..

Wounded Man. I have died for Rome.

[Dies.

Cæsar. And so did Bourbon, in another

sense.

Oh these immortal men! and their great motives!

But I must after my young charge. He is By this time i' the forum. Charge! charge! [Cæsar mounts the ladder; the Scene closes.

SCENE II.-The City.

Combats between the Besiegers and Besieged in the streets. Inhabitants flying in confusion.

Enter CESAR.

Cæsar. I cannot find my hero; he is mixed

With the heroic crowd that now pursue The fugitives, or battle with the desperate. What have we here? A Cardinal or two That do not seem in love with martyrdom. How the old red-shanks scamper! Could they doff

Their hose as they have doffed their hats, 'twould be

A blessing, as a mark the less for plunder. But let them fly, the crimson kennels now Will not much stain their stockings, since the mire

Is of the self-same purple huc. Enter a party fighting-ARNOLD at the head of the Besicgers.

He comes,

and Glory.

Holla! hold, Count!