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could not literally translate) that pas- II, but more remotely from the masage unexce'led even by Æschylus lediction laid by Henry, the first himself, in glowing and terrific elo- crowned Plantagenet, on his guilty quence,

and rebellious children. They asked

how long the family of York should -But at hand, at hand

live " the thrall of Margaret's curse," Ensues his piteous and unpitied end : Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints

(an expression like that of Æschylus,

ύμνος εξ 'Εριννύων δέσμιος φρενών. pray, To have him suddenly convey'd from hence; Eumenides, 340, 341,) and concluded Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I

with a determination to cherish hope,'

pray, That I may live to say, 'The dog is dead!

be steadfast in their fidelity, and

await the will of Heaven. A sound of arms and warlike mu- In the following scene Richard apsic announced Richard's approach: peared engaged with Norfolk in the Queen and Duchess prepared to drawing the form and model of confront him, but Margaret with-, his battle.” Æschylus took occadrew, uttering a solemn and bitter sion from a short speech in Shaksfarewell to the tyrant, as to one peare's tragedy + to introduce here a whose living face she would never delineation of the appearance, chabehold again.

racters, and warlike qualities of the A Chorus forined of warriors at- hostile leaders, with an account of tending on the King's person (and their stations in the field and of the afterwards stationed about his tent), forces under their command. The now poured upon the stage, invoking detail was not unlike those given in Victory and Fortune to baffle their the Persae and Seven Chiefs. Richard adversaries, and sweep back the bil- commented like Eteocles on each delow of invasion. Richard had begun scription, and expressed, as in Shaksto address his followers, when the peare's play, his scorn of the base appearance of the two matrons, pale, and “vagabond"Bretons. Æschylus, squalid, and in mourning weeds, as- I thought, went even beyond Shakstonished and disturbed the Chorus. peare in portraying the contempt so “Who intercepts me?" was the im- naturally felt by Richard, an old and patient demand of Richard; and his hardy soldier, for the unwarlike mother then broke silence in Shak. breeding of Richmond. speare's words. The women became The King now issued some com« copious in exclaims," till, over- mands, and, the night being far adwhelmed with their reproachful la- vanced, prepared to pass an hour in mentations, the monarch cried “ a sleep. Before he retired within his flourish, trumpets!”. and drowned tent, it was communicated that Bucktheir voices with the “clamorous re- ingham had paid the penalty of his port of war;" A short dialogue fol- insurrection, an event in which the lowed, concluding with the Duchess's Chorus once again acknowledged the solemn farewell, and keen maternal fatal efficacy of Queen Margaret's curse.

In the ensuing ode they moThe interval between this and the ralized on the blindness of those who, ensuing scene was filled with a lofty like the imprudent nobleman just put and elaborate descant of the Chorus, to death, forsake ancient alliance and who confessed with awe and grief make shipwreck of their fortunes by that the fierce avenging spirit (ó precipitately shifting their course. sadalos apyvs addswp.- Agam. 1512), While commiserating this new vicwho had followed the house of Anjou tim of civil discord, they were alarmfrom of old, was not yet laid asleep, ed by unusual sounds from the royal but thirsting for new sacrifices. They tent, and Richard burst forth upon deduced the late calamities imme- them, distracted, and exclaiming that diately from the murder of Richard he was beset by horrible phantoms.


It will casūly be believed that the rude and untimely pun of Richard, about “ Hum, phrey Hour," was not adopted by the Greek imitator of this scene. Yet the practice of playing on names was not despised by Æschylus and his contemporary tragedians; and Shakspeare himself never quibbled inore audaciously than Æschylus, where he says that Helen was rightly so named, because she was 'Enevas, flosspos, NATONIS--Agam. 692, &c.

+ Act IV. Sc. 5.

Æschylus, as it seemed to me, had Tower, the fatal prison of Henry, of 80 contrived this scene that the mere Clarence, and of Edward's children; reader or hearer might, at his discre- and they gave this fortress in their tion, imagine the Spectres actually description all the visionary and exhibited on the stage, or suppose mysterious terrors bestowed by Æsthem only present to the disturbed chylus on the ensanguined house of

fancy of Richard. It is well known Atreus. They observed that 10 that the poet wanted neither courage power can charm back the life-blood to introduce phantoms visibly on the once fallen to earth,|| but that expiascene, as in the Persae and Eumenides, tion, with the favour of heaven, might nor address to make the audience yet be made ; they prayed therefore sympathise with a personage, who, for an auspicious end of this day's like Orestes in the Choëphoræ, saw conflict, and a brighter season after forms invisible to all beside. In the the present gloom, deducing, in a present scene, Richard, by his earnest manner somewhat fanciful and oband hurried exclamations, imperfect- scure, the connexion between prosly but strongly indicated the figures, perity at one period and humiliation aspects, and demeanour of his dreadó at another. ful visitants; and the manner in The king re-appeared, looked forth which Æschylus would conceive the upon the ranks, now nearly formed apparitions of Henry VI, of Anne, for battle, and addressed some arand of the young princes, may be dent words of exhortation to his ata imagined by those who recollect his tendant chiefs. A messenger, anDarius issuing from the earth amidst nounced that “the enemy had pass, the prostrate and awe-struck Per- ed the marsh.” Æschylus could not sians, his Clytemnestra pointing to express more nobly than by adopting her wounds as she rouses the slum. Shakspeare's manner the swell and bering Furies, or those shadowy mounting of Richard's fiery spirit at forms of murdered children which the well known moment of onset; Cassandra (in his Agamemnon) sees but the stirring appeal sitting at the gate of the Atridae. Fight, Gentlemen of England ! fight, bold Repeated and earnest expressions Yeomen! of awe and terror burst from the Chorus ; and the Tyrant's agitation was beyond the reach of a Grecian was at last wound up to a giddy poet, nor do I think his language whirl of thoughts and words, as ve

could have furnished him with terms hement as the frenzy of lo.*

At productive of any similar effect. To this pitch of passion the avenging ter

an English ear, even the cry 'Q Taides rors left him, and his mind gradually 'Elvjvwv ire at the battle of Salasank into calmness. And now the mis, appears insipid in comparison. hour was come when

After Richard's departure the mes

senger continued with the Chorus, who -Flaky darkness breaks within the East.f guarded their monarch's tent. While Norfolk and another leader of Ri- he was briefly describing to them chard's army entered to receive his the advance of Richmond's force, the orders, and the king retired to first crash of conflict was heard with“ buckle on his armour."

out. Then the Chorus divided themThe Chorus, still agitated by the selves into separate groups, imparecent horrors, poured forth a sup- tiently straining their sight to catch plication to the shades that had dis- some glimpse of the battle, striving turbed the king's repose, entreating with anxious ears to gather intellithat their angry and vengeful influ- gence from the confused din of the ences, their ’Epivvies, might not in armies, and each party alternately the ensuing battle “ sit heavy.” conveying in short energetic bursts on the royal breast. They wished of description, the news or the conthat earthquake or lightning would jecture, the hope, fear, or triumph remove from heaven's view the of the moment. Every verse rea

* Æsch. Prometheus. of Rich. III. Act v. Sc. 2. # A similar form of expression is used in the Seven Chiefs, l. 698, where Eteocles declares that his father's curses mocīs áx.có 5005 õne pool to poorténeo, or, as we should say,

Sits heavy on his parched and tearless eyes. § Æsch. Agamemnon, 1197, &c. ! Ibid, 1026. Æsch. Persae, 100.

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sounded with the clang of armour, the scene, he was not under the nethe rush of arrows, the neigh and cessity of sacrificing to stage effect trampling of steeds, the ringing of by slaying him in single combat. harness, and the fiery call of trum- Richmond and some of his partipets.*

zans now entered proclaiming anew At length a second messenger re- that “ the Boar” was dead, and ported that the king, after enacting announcing that his followers, dis

more wonders than a man,” had couraged by this event and the prefallen by a thousand wounds in the vious defection of Stanley, had yield. thickest press of battle. Æschylused, fallen, or been dispersed. The appears to have thought it too much victor gave orders for securing the honour for Richmond, a novice in royal tent, which the Chorus, still war,

faithful to their charge, indignantly One that never in his life

prepared to defend. They were Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow.t checked, however, by assurances that

no hope remained of successful oppoto conquer with his own hand the sition.

Richmond, who appeared redoubted Richard, the valiant son of not to be a favourite with Æschylus, York and his fellow soldier in so pronounced a tame speech of exhormany hard fought fields. The Greek tation and self-applause, and the poet had no public prejudice to con- Chorus after hinting the advantages Bult, no reigning family to flatter; of moderation, submitted sullenly to and, as he did not kill his tyrant on the conqueror.

* I justify this phrase by the authority of Æschylus, who says, in describing the battle of Salamis, that at day-break the trumpet with its loud call, ávrh, —inéqreying fired all the coast.

† Rich. III. Act v. Sc. 2.




Giunto è già il corso della vita mia
Per tempestoso mar con fragil barca
Al comun porto, ove a render si varca
Conto e ragion d'ogni opra trista e pia ;

Mà l'alta affettuosa fantasia,
Che l'arte mi fece idolo e monarca,
Conosco or ben quanto sia d'error carca,
E quel che mal suo grado ognun desia.

Gli amorosi pensier, già vani e lieti,
Che fien or,

s'a due morti m'avvicino ?
D'una so certa, e l'altra mi minaccia.

Nè pinger, nè scolpir fia più che queti
L'anima volta a quell' Amor divino

Che apersc in croce, a prender noi, le braccia.
My wave-worn bark through life's tempestuous sea
Has sped its course, and touch'd the crowded shore,
Where all must give account the Judge before,
And as their actions merit, sentenced be.

At length from Fancy's wild enchantments free,
That made me Art as some strange God adore,
I deeply feel how vain its richest store,
Now that the one thing needful faileth me!

Vain dreams of love! once sweet, now yield they aught
If earn'd by them a two-fold death be mine,
This--doom'd me here, and that-beyond the grave?

Nor painting's art, nor sculptor's skill e'er brought
Peace to the soul that seeks that friend divine,
Who on the Cross stretch'd out his arms to save.

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Lungi da quel che piace al volgo insano
Men vo sovente, e in erma parte io seggio
E degli antichi imperj, a mano a mano,
L'immenso spazio col pensier passeggio.

Scorro l'Assiro e 'l Perso, e quivi invano
Di lor vaste cittadi un 'orma io chieggio ;
Quinci al Greco passando ed al Romano,
Poco di lor grandezza, o nulla, io veggio.

Nini, Ciri, Alessandri, omai sorgete
A vendicar sì gran ruine; e voi,
Trionfatori Cesari, ove siete ?

Ah che pur polve e' sono : e, se gli eroi
Fondatori di regni affondi in Lete,

Tempo distruggitor, che fia di noi ?
Oft the dull joys that maddening crowds enchain
I fly, and, seated in some lonely place,
Traverse in thought the wide-extended space
Where ancient monarchs held successive reign.

I range o'er Persia and Assyria's plain,
And of their mighty cities find no trace ;
And when t'ward Greece and Rome I turn my face,
What scanty relics of their power

remain !
Arise, proud Asia's lords, avenge the wrong;
Up, Philip's son! great Cæsars, where are ye,
To whom the trophies of the world belong?

Dust are they all—if such their destiny,
Who founded thrones, and heroes ranked among,
Say, Spoiler Time, what ruin threatens me?

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Alma gentil, che pria che l'uman velo
Vestisse, colle sacre e nitid'acque
Al biondo Apollo tal mondarla piacque
Che ben, com' ei, paresse nata in Delo !

Se dentro al pensier mio fallace un zelo
Di contar vostre lode al mondo nacque,
E poi nel mezzo dell' ardor suo giacque,
E pigro e neghittoso e pien di gelo,

Lasso ! egli avvenne, come avvenir suole
A' suppositi figli dell'uccello
Che 'l bel Frigio al gran Giove pose in grembo:

Che sforzati a fissar gli occhi nel Sole,
Come soggetto mal capace, in quello

Splendor gli oscuran d'un perpetuo nembo.
O thou, whose soul from the pure sacred stream
(Ere it was doom'd this mortal veil to wear,)
Bathed by the gold-hair'd God, emerged so fair,
That thou like him in Delos born didst seem !

If zeal, that of my strength would wrongly deem,
Bade me thy virtues to the world declare ;
And in my highest flight, struck with despair,
I sunk unequal to such lofty theme;

Alas! I suffer from the same mishap
As the false offspring of the bird that bore
The Phrygian stripling to the Thunderer's lap:

Forced in the sun's full radiance to gaze,
Such streams of light on their weak vision pour, ,
Their eyes are blasted in the furious blaze.


Non mai più bella luce, o più bel Sole
Del viso di costei nel mondo nacque;
Nè 'n valle ombrosa erranti e gelid' acque
Bagnar' più fresche e candide viòle ;

Nè quando l'età verde aprir si vuole,
Rosa mai tal sovra un bel lito giacque ;
Nè mai suono amoroso al mio cor piacque
Simile all' onorate sue parole.

Dal bel guardo vezzoso par che fiocchi
Di dolce pioggia un rugiadoso nembo,
Che le misere piaghe mie rinfresca :

Amor s’ è posto in mezzo a' suoi begli occhi,
E l'afflitto mio cor si tiene in grembo,

Troppo ardente favilla a sì poca esca.
Oh! never rose a light, or sun more fair
Than the soft beams that in her features play,
Never, 'mid streams that through dark vallies stray,
Did violets fresh more snowy lustre wear ;

Never, when opening buds first scent the air,
Did fairer rose a verdant bank array ;
Never did sounds of love such bliss convey,
As when her accents wake my trembling care.

From her mild gracious looks a dewy shower
Seems to distil with drops of softest rain,
And cool the wounds of my sore-stricken frame :

In midst of her bright eyes Love makes his bower,
And in his lap does my lorn heart detain,
Too scanty fuel for so fierce a flame!

Tempestose sonanti e torbid' onde,
Tranquille un tempo già, placide e quete,
Voi foste al viver mio simile, e sete
Simili alle mie pene ampie e

Spalmati legni, alme vezzose e liete
Ninfe, ed ogn' altra gioja a voi s'asconde,
A me ciò che facea care e gioconde
Queste luci, questore egre inquiete.

Lasso ! verrà ben tempo che ritorni
Altra stagion che rallegrarvi suole,
: Onde diversa fia la nostra sorte:

A me serene notti, o chiari giorni,
O che si appressi o si allontani il Sole,

Non fia che 'l mio tiranno unqua m'apporte.
Tempestuous, loud, and agitated sea !
In thy late peaceful calm and quiet, thou
Didst represent my happy state, but now,
Art picture true of my deep misery !

From thee is fled each joyous thing, the glee
Of sportive Nereid, and smooth-gliding prow;
From me—what late made joy illume my brow,
And these sad present hours so drear to be.

Alas! the time is near, when will return The season calm, and all thy waves be gay, And thou this fellowship of woe forsake :

The mistress of my soul can never make Serene the night for me, or clear the day, Whether the sun be hid, or cloudless burn.

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