The Works of Lord Byron Volume V Part 124

_Stran._ Why not? The deeper sinner, better saint.

_Arn._ They are beautiful, and cannot, sure, be demons.

_Stran._ True; the devil's always ugly: and your beauty Is never diabolical.

_Arn._ I'll call him Who bears the golden horn, and wears such bright And blooming aspect, _Huon_;[228] for he looks Like to the lovely boy lost in the forest, And never found till now. And for the other And darker, and more thoughtful, who smiles not, 530 But looks as serious though serene as night, He shall be _Memnon_[229], from the Ethiop king Whose statue turns a harper once a day.

And you?

_Stran._ I have ten thousand names, and twice As many attributes; but as I wear A human shape, will take a human name.

_Arn._ More human than the shape (though it was mine once) I trust.

_Stran._ Then call me Caesar.

_Arn._ Why, that name Belongs to Empire, and has been but borne By the World's lords.

_Stran._ And therefore fittest for 540 The Devil in disguise--since so you deem me, Unless you call me Pope instead.

_Arn._ Well, then, Caesar thou shalt be. For myself, my name Shall be plain Arnold still.

_Caes._ We'll add a t.i.tle[df]-- "Count Arnold:" it hath no ungracious sound, And will look well upon a billet-doux.

_Arn._ Or in an order for a battle-field.

_Caes._ (_sings_).

To horse! to horse! my coal-black steed Paws the ground and snuffs the air!

There's not a foal of Arab's breed 550 More knows whom he must bear; On the hill he will not tire, Swifter as it waxes higher; In the marsh he will not slacken, On the plain be overtaken; In the wave he will not sink, Nor pause at the brook's side to drink; In the race he will not pant, In the combat he'll not faint; On the stones he will not stumble, 560 Time nor toil shall make him humble; In the stall he will not stiffen, But be winged as a Griffin, Only flying with his feet: And will not such a voyage be sweet?

Merrily! merrily! never unsound, Shall our bonny black horses skim over the ground!

From the Alps to the Caucasus, ride we, or fly!

For we'll leave them behind in the glance of an eye.

[_They mount their horses, and disappear_.

SCENE II.--_A Camp before the walls of Rome_.

ARNOLD _and_ CaeSAR.

_Caes._ You are well entered now.

_Arn._ Aye; but my path Has been o'er carca.s.ses: mine eyes are full[dg]

Of blood.

_Caes._ Then wipe them, and see clearly. Why!

Thou art a conqueror; the chosen knight And free companion of the gallant Bourbon, Late constable of France[230]; and now to be Lord of the city which hath been Earth's Lord Under its emperors, and--changing s.e.x, Not sceptre, an Hermaphrodite of Empire-- _Lady_ of the old world[231].

_Arn._ How _old?_ What! are there 10 _New_ worlds?

_Caes._ To _you_. You'll find there are such shortly, By its rich harvests, new disease, and gold; From one _half_ of the world named a _whole_ new one, Because you know no better than the dull And dubious notice of your eyes and ears.

_Arn._ I'll trust them.

_Caes._ Do! They will deceive you sweetly, And that is better than the bitter truth.

_Arn._ Dog!

_Caes._ Man!

_Arn._ Devil!

_Caes._ Your obedient humble servant.

_Arn._ Say _master_ rather. Thou hast lured me on, Through scenes of blood and l.u.s.t, till I am here. 20

_Caes._ And where wouldst thou be?

_Arn._ Oh, _at_ peace--_in_ peace!

_Caes._ And where is that which is so? From the star To the winding worm, all life is motion; and In life _commotion_ is the extremest point Of life. The planet wheels till it becomes A comet, and destroying as it sweeps The stars, goes out. The poor worm winds its way, Living upon the death of other things, But still, like them, must live and die, the subject Of something which has made it live and die. 30 You must obey what all obey, the rule Of fixed Necessity: against her edict Rebellion prospers not.

_Arn._ And when it prospers----

_Caes._ 'Tis no rebellion.

_Arn._ Will it prosper now?

_Caes._ The Bourbon hath given orders for the a.s.sault, And by the dawn there will be work.

_Arn._ Alas!

And shall the city yield? I see the giant Abode of the true G.o.d, and his true saint, Saint Peter, rear its dome and cross into That sky whence Christ ascended from the cross, 40 Which his blood made a badge of glory and Of joy (as once of torture unto him),-- G.o.d and G.o.d's Son, man's sole and only refuge!

_Caes._ 'Tis there, and shall be.

_Arn._ What?

_Caes._ The Crucifix Above, and many altar shrines below.

Also some culverins upon the walls, And harquebusses, and what not; besides The men who are to kindle them to death Of other men.

_Arn._ And those scarce mortal arches,[232]

Pile above pile of everlasting wall, 50 The theatre where Emperors and their subjects (Those subjects _Romans_) stood at gaze upon The battles of the monarchs of the wild And wood--the lion and his tusky rebels Of the then untamed desert, brought to joust In the arena--as right well they might, When they had left no human foe unconquered-- Made even the forest pay its tribute of Life to their amphitheatre, as well As Dacia men to die the eternal death 60 For a sole instant's pastime, and "Pa.s.s on To a new gladiator!"--Must it fall?

_Caes._ The city, or the amphitheatre?

The church, or one, or all? for you confound Both them and me.

_Arn._ To-morrow sounds the a.s.sault With the first c.o.c.k-crow.

_Caes._ Which, if it end with The evening's first nightingale, will be Something new in the annals of great sieges; For men must have their prey after long toil.

_Arn._ The sun goes down as calmly, and perhaps 70 More beautifully, than he did on Rome On the day Remus leapt her wall.