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Admiring, terrified, the novel strain,
[again; Then cours'd the field around, and cours'd it round But, recollecting with a sudden thought,
That flight in circles urg'd advanc'd them nought,
Birds of all feather, beasts of every name,
He spells them true by intuition's light,
Sure ne'er to want them, mathematic truths;
"Friends! we have liv'd too long. I never heard Sounds such as these, so worthy to be fear'd. Could I believe, that winds for ages pent, In earth's dark womb have found at last a vent, And from their prison-house below arise, With all these hideous howlings to the skies, I could be much compos'd; nor should appear, For such a cause, to feel the slightest fear. Yourselves have seen, what time the thunders roll'd All night, me resting quiet in the fold. Or heard we that tremendous bray alone, I could expound the melancholy tone; Should deem it by our old companion made, The ass-for he, we know, has lately stray'd; And being lost, perhaps, and wand'ring wide, Might be suppos'd to clamour for a guide. But ah! those dreadful yells what soul can hear That owns a carcass, and not quake for fear? Demons produce them, doubtless; brazen-claw'd And fang'd with brass, the demons are abroad; I hold it therefore wisest and most fit, That, life to save, we leap into the pit.
Him answer'd then his loving mate and true, But more discreet than he, a Cambrian ewe : "How! leap into the pit our life to save? To save our life leap all into the grave? For can we find it less? Contemplate first The depth how awful;-falling there, we burst; Or should the brambles, interpos'd, our fall In part abate, that happiness were small; For with a race like theirs no chance I see Of peace or ease to creatures clad as we. Meantime, noise kills not. Be it Dapple's bray, Or be it not, or be it whose it may,
And rush those other sounds, that seem by tongues
Sounds are but sounds; and till the cause appear,
By panting dog, tir'd man, and spatter'd horse,
Beware of desperate steps. The darkest day,
HENRY THE FOURTH'S SOLILOQUY
How many thousands of my poorest subjects
And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,
Under the canopies of costly state,
And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody?
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
CARDINAL WOLSEY'S LAMENTATION
FAREWELL, a long farewell, to all my greatness!
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
At length broke under me; and now has left me,
Never to hope again.
Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; Mark but my fall, and that which ruin❜d me; And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me must more be heard; say, I taught thee; Say, Wolsey, that once trod the paths of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in; A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it: Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition; By that sin fell the angels; how can man then, (The image of his Maker,) hope to win by't? Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's: then if thou fall'st, Oh Cromwell,
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king;