In Cæsar's bosom, and revenge my country, |
|
I could enjoy the pangs of death, |
And smile in agony! |

Luc.

Others, perhaps, |

May serve their country with as warm a zeal, |
Though 't is not kindled into so much rage. |
Semp. This sober conduct is a mighty virtue
In luke-warm patriots! |

Cato. Come-no more', Sempronius, |

All here are friends to Rome, and to each other
Let us not weaken still the weaker side |
By our divisions.

Semp. Cato, my resentments
Are sacrificed to Rome I stand reprov'd. |
-1
Cato. Fathers, 't is time you come to a resolve. |
Luc. Cato, we all go into your' opinion |
Cæsar's behaviour has convinc'd the senate |
We ought to hold it out till terms arrive. |

Semp. We ought to hold it out till death'- | but, Cato,] My private voice is drown'd amidst the senate's.

Cato. Then let us rise, my friends', and strive to fill This little interval, this pause of life, While yet our liberty, and fates are doubtful, | With resolution, | friend ship, | Roman bra'very, | And all the virtues we can crowd into it, | That heaven may say it ought to be prolong'd. | Fathers, farewell. The young Numidian prince Comes forward, and expects to know our counsels. I

1

THANATOPSIS.*

(W. C. BRYANT.)

To him who, in the love of Nature, holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language: for his gayer hours, |
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile,

* Thanatopsis (Greek), from thanatos, death, and opsis, sight – a view of death.

And eloquence of beauty; and she glides
Into his darker musings with a mild
And gentle sym'pathy that steals away
Their sharpness, ere he is aware. |
I

When thoughts

|

Of the last bitter hour, come like a blight
Over thy spirit; | and sad imagesa
Of the stern agony, and shroud', | and pall', |
And breathless dark,ness, and the narrow house', |
I
Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart, |
Go forth under the open sky', | and list
To Nature's teachings, | while from all around —
Earth', and her wa'ters, and the depths of air
Comes a still voice、 -

I

!

―

Yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun | shall see no more' |
In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground`, |
Where thy pale form | was laid with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of o'cean, | shall exist

1

Thy image. Earth that nourish'd thee, shall claim
}
Thy growth to be resolv'd to earth again; |
And, lost each human trace, | surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go |
To mix for ever with the elements,
To be a brother to the insensible rock', |
And to the sluggish clod | which the rude swain |
T
Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak
I
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould. |
I
Yet not to thy eternal resting-place, |
Shalt thou retire alone、· - | nor couldst thou wish' |
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world — with kings', I
|
The powerful of the earth the wise, the good', |
I
Fair forms, and hoary seers' of ages past, |

――――

1

I

All in one mighty sepulchre. |

a Sad images; not sad-dim'a-ges. go-ny.

Stern agony; not stern-nag'

1

The hills, Rock-ribb'd, and ancient as the sun'; the vales', Stretching in pensive quietness between ; | The venerable woods; rivers that move In ina'jesty, and the r complaining brooks | That make the meadows green; | and, pour'd round all' | Old ocean's grey, and melancholy waste', | Are but the solemn decorations all', I

I

Of the great tomb of man. |

The golden sun、, | The planets, all the infinite host of heav'n, | I Are shining on the sad, abodes of death, | Through the still lapse of ages. | All that tread The globe, are but, a hand ful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. | Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert, pierce, | Or lose thyself in the continuous woods | Where rolls the Oregon, | and hears no sound, | Save his own dash.ings yet the dead are there; | And millions in those solitudes, | since first The flight of years began, | have laid them down In their last sleep. - the dead reign there, alone. |

So shalt thou' rest and what if thou shalt fall, |
Unnoticed by the living; | and no friend
Take note of thy departure? | All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
When thou art gone; the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one, as before, I will chase
His favourite phantom-
| yet all these | shall leave
Their mirth, and their employments, and shall come,
I
And make their bed with thee. |

a

As the long train
Of ages glides away, the sons of men', |
The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years', ma'tron and maid, |

b Sad abodes; not sad'der-bodes. But a handful; not butter handful.

The bow'd with age, the infant | in the smiles
And beauty of its innocent age cut off,a |
Shall one by one | be gather'd to thy side, |
By those who, in their turn, | shall follow them. |

So live, that when thy summons comes, I to join
The innumerable caravan | that moves

To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death, |
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night', |
Scourg'd to his dungeon, but, sustain'd, and sooth'd |
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, |
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. |

SPEECH OF CICERO AGAINST VERRES.

The time is come, fathers, when that which has long been wished for, towards allaying the envy your order has been subject to, and removing the imputations against trials, is effectually put into your power. | An opinion has long prevailed, not only here at home, | but likewise in foreign countries, both dangerous to you, and pernicious to the state, that, in prosecutions, men of wealth are always safe', however clearly convicted. I

There is now to be brought upon his trial, before you, to the confusion, I hope, | of the propagators of this slanderous imputation, one whose life, and actions condemn him in the opinion of all impartial persons; but who, according to his own reckoning, and declared dependence upon his riches, is already acquit.ted: I mean Caius Verres. |

I demand justice of you, Fathers, upon the robber I of the public treasury, the oppressor of Asia Minor, and Pamphylia, | the invader of the rights, and privileges of Romans, the scourge, and curse of Sicily. |

a

Cut off; not cut-toff'. b About him; not abow'tim. c For'rin.

с

If that sentence is passed upon him, which his crimes deserve, your authority, Fathers, will be venerable, and sacred in the eyes of the public; | but, if his great riches should bias you in his favour, I shall still gain one point, to make it apparent to all the world, | that what was wanting in this case, was not a criminal, nor a prosecutor; but justice, and adequate punishment. |

To pass over the shameful irregularities of his youth, what does his quæs'torship, the first public employment he held, | what does it exhibit, but one continued scene of villanies? | Cneius Carbo, plundered of the public money by his own treasurer, a consul stripped, and betrayed', an army, deserted, and reduced to want, a province, robbed', the civil, and religious rights of a people violated. |

The employment he held in Asia Minor, and Pamphylia, what did it produce but the ruin of those countries, in which houses, cities, and temples were robbed by him? What was his conduct in his prætorship here at home? Let the plundered temples, and public works neglected, that he might embezzle the money intended for carrying them on', bear witness. How did he discharge the office of a judge? | Let those who suffered by his injus'tice, answer. |

But his prætorship in Sicily, | crowns all his works of wickedness, and finishes a lasting monument to his infamy. The mischiefs, done by him in that unhappy country, during the three years of his iniquitous administration, are such, that many years, under the wisest, and best' of prætors, will not be sufficient to restore things to the condition in which he found them; for it is notorious, that, during the time of his tyranny, the Sicilians neither enjoyed the protection of their own original laws; of the regulations made for their benefit by the Roman senate, upon their coming under the protection of the commonwealth ; | nor of the natural, and unalienable rights of men. |