« PreviousContinue »
Cal. I am glad that my weak words
BELLARIUS, GUIDERIUS, AND ARVIRAGUS.
Bel. A GOODLY day! not to keep house, with such.
Guid. Hail, Heav'n!
Bel. Now for our mountain sport, up to yond hill,
Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine,
Guid. Out of your proof you speak; we, poor, unfledg'd,
age: but unto us, it is
Arv. What should we speak of,
Bel. How you speak!
Was not far off: then was I as a tree,
Guid. Uncertain favour !
Bel. My fault being nothing, as I have told oft, But that two villians (whose false oaths prevail'd Before my perfect honour) swore to Cymbeline. I was confed'rate with the Romans : so Follow'd my banishment; and, these twenty years, This rock and these demesnes have been my world ; Where I have liv'd at honest freedom; paid More pious debts to Heaven, than in all The fore-end of my time-But, up to th' mountains ! This is not hunter's language; he that strikes The venison first, shall be the lord o? th' feast ; To him the other two shall minister, And we will fear no poison, which attends In place of greater state, I'll meet you in the valleys.
DEAR Sensibility! source inexhausted of all that's precious in our joys, or costly in our sorrows! thou chainest thy martyr down upon his bed of straw, and it is thou who liftest him up to Heaven. Eternal Fountain of our feelings ! It is nere I trace thee, and this is thy dirinity which stirs within me : not, that in some sad and sickening moments, ' my soul shrinks back upon herself, and startles at destruction -mere pomp of words !--but that I feel some generous joys and generous cares beyond myself-alt comes from thee, great, great Sensorinm of the world ! which vibrates, if a hair of our head but falls upon the ground, in the remotest desert of thy creation. Touched with thee, Eugenius draws my curtain when I languish; hears, my tale of symptoms, and blames the weather for the disorder of his nerves. Thuu givest a portion of it sometimes to the roughest peasant who traverses the bleakest mountains. He finds the la. cerated lamb of another's flock. This moment I beheld him leaning with his head against his crook, with piteous inclination looking down upon it-Oh! had I come one moment sooner -it bleeds to death his gentle heart bleeds with it.
Peace to thee, generous swain! I see thou walkest off with anguish—but thy joys shall balance it ; for happy is thy cottage, and happy is the sharer of it, and happy are the lambs which sport about you.
DISGUISE thyself as thou wilt, still, Slavery! still thou art a bitter draught; and though thousands in all ages have been made to dộink of thee, thou art no less bitter on that account. It is thou, Liberty, thrice sweet and gracious goddess, whom all in public or in private 1 worship, whose taste is grateful, and ever will be so, till nature herself shall change
-no tint of words can spot thy snowy mantle, or chymic power turn thy scep: tre into iron- -with thee to smile upon him as he eats his crust, the swain is happier than his monarch, from whose court thou art, exiled. Gracious Heaten! grant me but health, thou great Bestower of it, and give me but this fair goddess as my companion ; and shower down thy mitres, if it seems good unto thy divine providence, ; upon those heads which are aching for them.
Pursuing these ideas, I sat down close by my table, and leaning my head upon my hand, I began to figure to myself the miseries of confinement. I was in a right frame for it, and so I gave full scope to my imagination.
I was going to begin with the millions of my fellowcreatures born to no inheritance but slavery ; but finding,