It was the calm and silent night:—Seven hundred years and fifty-threeHad Rome been growing up to might,And now was Queen of land and sea!No sound was heard of clashing wars;Peace brooded o'er the hushed domain;Apollo, Pallas, Jove, and MarsHeld undisturbed their ancient reign,In the solemn midnightCenturies ago!'Twas in the calm and silent night!The senator of haughty RomeImpatient urged his chariot's flight,From lordly revel rolling home!Triumphal arches gleaming swellHis breast with thoughts of boundless sway;What recked the Roman what befellA paltry province far away,In the solemn midnightCenturies ago!Within that province far awayWent plodding home a weary boor:A streak of light before him lay,Fallen through a half-shut stable doorAcross his path. He passed—for noughtTold what was going on within;How keen the stars! his only thought;The air, how calm and cold and thin,In the solemn midnightCenturies ago!O strange indifference!—low and highDrowsed over common joys and cares:The earth was still—but knew not why;The world was listening—unawares;How calm a moment may precedeOne that shall thrill the world for ever!To that still moment none would heed,Man's doom was linked no more to severIn the solemn midnightCenturies ago!It is the calm and solemn night!A thousand bells ring out, and throwTheir joyous peals abroad, and smiteThe darkness, charmed and holynow!The night that erst no name had worn,To it a happy name is given;For in that stable lay new-bornThe peaceful Prince of Earth and Heaven,In the solemn midnightCenturies ago.
It was the calm and silent night:—Seven hundred years and fifty-threeHad Rome been growing up to might,And now was Queen of land and sea!No sound was heard of clashing wars;Peace brooded o'er the hushed domain;Apollo, Pallas, Jove, and MarsHeld undisturbed their ancient reign,In the solemn midnightCenturies ago!
'Twas in the calm and silent night!The senator of haughty RomeImpatient urged his chariot's flight,From lordly revel rolling home!Triumphal arches gleaming swellHis breast with thoughts of boundless sway;What recked the Roman what befellA paltry province far away,In the solemn midnightCenturies ago!
Within that province far awayWent plodding home a weary boor:A streak of light before him lay,Fallen through a half-shut stable doorAcross his path. He passed—for noughtTold what was going on within;How keen the stars! his only thought;The air, how calm and cold and thin,In the solemn midnightCenturies ago!
O strange indifference!—low and highDrowsed over common joys and cares:The earth was still—but knew not why;The world was listening—unawares;How calm a moment may precedeOne that shall thrill the world for ever!To that still moment none would heed,Man's doom was linked no more to severIn the solemn midnightCenturies ago!
It is the calm and solemn night!A thousand bells ring out, and throwTheir joyous peals abroad, and smiteThe darkness, charmed and holynow!The night that erst no name had worn,To it a happy name is given;For in that stable lay new-bornThe peaceful Prince of Earth and Heaven,In the solemn midnightCenturies ago.
A. Domett
EnterBrutusandCassiusCas.That you have wrong'd me doth appear in this:You have condemn'd and noted Lucius PellaFor taking bribes here of the Sardians;Wherein my letters, praying on his side,Because I knew the man, were slighted off.Bru.You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case.Cas.In such a time as this it is not meetThat every nice offence should bear his comment.Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourselfAre much condemn'd to have an itching palm;To sell and mart your offices for goldTo undeservers.Cas. I an itching palm!You know that you are Brutus that speak this,Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption,And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.Cas. Chastisement!Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember:Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake?What villain touch'd his body, that did stab,And not for justice? What, shall one of us,That struck the foremost man of all this worldBut for supporting robbers, shall we nowContaminate our fingers with base bribes,And sell the mighty space of our large honoursFor so much trash as may be grasped thus?I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,Than such a Roman.Cas.Brutus, bay not me;I'll not endure it: you forget yourself,To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I,Older in practice, abler than yourselfTo make conditions.Bru.Go to; you are not, Cassius.Cas.I am.Bru.I say you are not.Cas.Urge me no more, I shall forget myself;Have mind upon your health, tempt me no farther.Bru.Away, slight man!Cas.Is't possible?Bru.Hear me, for I will speak.Must I give way and room to your rash choler?Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?Cas.O ye gods, ye gods! must I endure all this?Bru.All this! ay, more: fret till your proud heart break;Go show your slaves how choleric you are,And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?Must I observe you? must I stand and crouchUnder your testy humour? By the gods,You shall digest the venom of your spleen,Though it do split you; for, from this day forth,I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter,When you are waspish.Cas.Is it come to this?Bru.You say you are a better soldier:Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,And it shall please me well: for mine own part,I shall be glad to learn of noble men.Cas.You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus;I said, an elder soldier, not a better:Did I say "better"?Bru. If you did, I care not.Cas. When Cæsar lived, he durst not thus have moved me.Bru. Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him.Cas. I durst not!Bru.No.Cas. What, durst not tempt him!Bru. For your life you durst not.Cas.Do not presume too much upon my love;I may do that I shall be sorry for.Bru.You have done that you should be sorry for.There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats,For I am arm'd so strong in honestyThat they pass by me as the idle wind,Which I respect not. I did send to youFor certain sums of gold, which you denied me:For I can raise no money by vile means:By heaven, I had rather coin my heart,And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wringFrom the hard hands of peasants their vile trashBy any indirection: I did sendTo you for gold to pay my legions,Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius?Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so?When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,To lock such rascal counters from his friends,Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts;Dash him to pieces!Cas.I denied you not.Bru.You did.Cas.I did not: he was but a fool that broughtMy answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart:A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me.Cas.You love me not.Bru. I do not like your faults.Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults.Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appearAs huge as high Olympus.Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come,Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,For Cassius is aweary of the world;Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother;Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observ'd,Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,To cast into my teeth. O, I could weepMy spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger,And here my naked breast; within, a heartDearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold;If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth;I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart;Strike, as thou didst at Cæsar; for, I know,When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him betterThan ever thou lovedst Cassius.Bru.Sheath your dagger:Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour.O Cassius, you are yoked with a lambThat carries anger as the flint bears fire;Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,And straight is cold again.Cas.Hath Cassius livedTo be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,When grief, and blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him?Bru.When I spoke that I was ill-temper'd too.Cas.Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.Bru.And my heart too.Cas.O Brutus!Bru.What's the matter?Cas.Have not you love enough to bear with me,When that rash humour which my mother gave me,Makes me forgetful?Bru.Yes, Cassius; and, from henceforth,When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.
Shakespeare: "Julius Cæsar," IV. 3
(1897)
God of our fathers, known of old,Lord of our far-flung battle-line,Beneath whose awful Hand we holdDominion over palm and pine—Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,Lest we forget—lest we forget!The tumult and the shouting dies;The captains and the kings depart:Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,An humble and a contrite heart.Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,Lest we forget—lest we forget!Far-called our navies melt away;On dune and headland sinks the fire:Lo, all our pomp of yesterdayIs one with Nineveh and Tyre!Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,Lest we forget—lest we forget!If, drunk with sight of power, we looseWild tongues that have not Thee in awe,Such boasting as the Gentiles use,Or lesser breeds without the Law—Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,Lest we forget—lest we forget!For heathen heart that puts her trustIn reeking tube and iron shard,All valiant dust that builds on dust,And guarding, calls not Thee to guard,For frantic boast and foolish word—Thy mercy on Thy People, Lord! Amen.
God of our fathers, known of old,Lord of our far-flung battle-line,Beneath whose awful Hand we holdDominion over palm and pine—Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,Lest we forget—lest we forget!
The tumult and the shouting dies;The captains and the kings depart:Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,An humble and a contrite heart.Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,Lest we forget—lest we forget!
Far-called our navies melt away;On dune and headland sinks the fire:Lo, all our pomp of yesterdayIs one with Nineveh and Tyre!Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,Lest we forget—lest we forget!
If, drunk with sight of power, we looseWild tongues that have not Thee in awe,Such boasting as the Gentiles use,Or lesser breeds without the Law—Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,Lest we forget—lest we forget!
For heathen heart that puts her trustIn reeking tube and iron shard,All valiant dust that builds on dust,And guarding, calls not Thee to guard,For frantic boast and foolish word—Thy mercy on Thy People, Lord! Amen.
Kipling