Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,

And lulled with sounds of sweetest melody?
O, thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile,
In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch,
A watch-case, or a common 'larum bell?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge,

And in the visitation of the winds,

Who take the ruffian billows by the top,

Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deafening clamors in the slippery clouds,
That with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude;
And in the calmest and most stillest night,

With all appliances and means to boot,

Deny it to a king? Then, happy, low lie down!

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

SHAKSPERE.

BRUTUS' HARANGUE ON THE DEAD BODY OF

LUCRETIA.

THUS, thus, my friends! fast as our breaking hearts

Permitted utterance, we have told our story:

And now, to say one word of the imposture

The mask necessity has made me wear.

When the ferocious malice of your king

King! do I call him?-when the monster, Tarquin
Slew, as most of you may well remember,

My father, Marcus, and my elder brother,

Envying at once their virtues and their wealth,
How could I hope a shelter from his power,
But in the false face I have worn so long?

Would you know why I summoned you together?
Ask ye what brings me here? Behold this dagger,
Clotted with gore! Behold that frozen corse!
See where the lost Lucretia sleeps in death!

She was the mark and model of the time,

The mould in which each female face was form'd,
The very shrine and sacristy of virtue!

The worthiest of the worthy! not the nymph
Who met old Numa in his hallow'd walks,

And whisper'd in his ear her strains divine,
Can I conceive beyond her! - the young choir
Of vestal virgins bent to her! Such a mind,
Might have abash'd the boldest libertine,
And turn'd desire to reverential love

And holiest affection! Oh my countrymen !
You all can witness when that she went forth
It was a holyday in Rome: old age

Forgot its crutch; labor its task! all ran:
And mothers, turning to their daughters, cried

"There, there's Lucretia "-Now look ye where she lies, That beauteous flower, that innocent sweet rose,

Torn up by ruthless violence-gone! gone!

Say-would you seek instructions! would you seek

should do?.

What
ye
Ask ye yon conscious walls
Which saw his poison'd brother, saw the incest
Committed there, and they will cry, Revenge!-
Ask yonder senate-house, whose stones are purple
With human blood, and it will cry, Revenge!
Go to the tomb where lie his murder'd wife,
And the poor queen who lov'd him as her son,
Their unappeased ghosts will shriek, Revenge!
The temples of the gods, the all-viewing heaven, —
The gods themselves will justify the cry,

And swell the general sound

Revenge! Revenge!

TELL ON HIS NATIVE MOUNTAINS.

YE crags and peaks! I'm with you once again.
I hold to you the hands you first beheld,
To show they still are free. Methinks I hear

A spirit in your echoes answer me,

And bid your tenant welcome to his home
Again! O sacred forms, how proud you look,
How high you lift your heads into the sky!

How huge you are
Ye are the things that tower, that shine—whose smile
Makes glad-whose frown is terrible-whose forms,
Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear
Of awe divine! Ye guards of liberty,
I'm with you once again! I call to you,

- how mighty, and how free!

With all my voice! I hold my hands to you,
To show they still are free! I rush to you,

As though I could embrace you !

Scaling yonder peak,

I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow
O'er the abyss: his broad-expanded wings
Lay calm and motionless upon the air,
As if he floated there without their aid,
By the sole act of his unlorded will,
That buoy'd him proudly up. Instinctively
I bent my bow; yet kept he rounding still
His airy circle, as in the delight

Of measuring the ample range beneath

And round about; absorb'd he heeded not

The death that threaten'd him. I could not shoot!
'Twas liberty! -I turn'd my bow aside,
And let him soar away!

O! with what pride I used

To walk these hills, and look up to my God,

And bless him that the land was free. 'Twas free-
From end to end, from cliff to lake 'twas free!-
Free as our torrents are that leap our rocks,
And plough our valleys, without asking leave!
Or as our peaks that wear their caps of snow,
In very presence of the regal sun!

How happy was it then! I loved

Its very storms! Yes, Emma, I have sat

In my boat at night, when, midway o'er the lake,
The stars went out, and down the mountain gorge
The wind came roaring.—I have sat and eyed
The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled
To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head,
And think I had no master save his own!
On yonder jutting cliff-o'ertaken there
By the mountain blast, I've laid me flat along,
And while gust followed gust, more furiously,
As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink,

And I have thought of other lands, whose storms

Are summer-flaws to those of mine, and just

Have wish'd me there-the thought that mine was free
Has check'd that wish, and I have rais'd my head,

And cried, in thraldom to that furious wind,

Blow on!-This is the land of liberty!

OTHELLO'S APOLOGY.

Most potent. grave, and reverend signiors,
My very noble and approved good masters,
That I have ta’en away this old man's daughter,
It is most true: true, I have married her:

KNOWLES.

The very head and front of my offending

Hath this extent; no more. Rude am I in speech,
And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace;

For, since these arms of mine had seven years' pith
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
Their dearest action in the tented field;

And little of this great world can I speak,

More than pertains to feats of broils and battle;
And therefore little shall I grace my cause

In speaking for myself. Yet, by your patience,

I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver

Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,
What conjuration, and what mighty magic,

(For such proceeding I am charged withal)

I won his daughter with. ·

Her father loved me; oft invited me;

Still question'd me the story of my life

From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have pass'd.

I ran it through, ev'n from my boyish days,
To th' very moment that he bade me tell it.

Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,

Of moving accidents by flood and field;

Of hair-breadth 'scapes in th' imminent deadly breach :
Of being taken by the insolent foe,

And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,

And with it all my travel's history:

Wherein of antres vast, and deserts idle,

Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heav'n,

It was my hint to speak. All these to hear

Would Desdemona seriously incline.

But still the house affairs would draw her thence;

Which, ever as she could with haste despatch,

She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse: which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour, and found good means