494 The desperate revelries of wild despair, Kindling their hell-born cressets, light to deeds That the poor captives would have died ere practised, Till bondage sunk his soul to his condition. FAR as the eye could reach no tree was seen, 'WOE to the vanquished!' was stern Brenno's word, When sunk proud Rome beneath the Gallic sword "Woe to the vanquished!' when his massive blade Bore down the scale against her ransom weighed, And on the field of foughten battle still, To the wild northern bog, the curlieu's haunt, Where oozes forth its first and feeble streamlet. Old Play. A PRIEST, ye cry, a priest !-lame shepherds they, How shall they gather in the straggling flock? Dumb dogs which bark not— - how shall they compel The loitering vagrants to the Master's fold? Now let us sit in conclave. That these weeds Craves good advisement. The Reformation. Which wise men scorn and fools accept in pay ment. Old Play. A COURTIER extraordinary, who by diet Of his whole happiness the trim of court. Now choose thee, gallant, betwixt wealth and honor; There lies the pelf, in sum to bear thee through INDIFFERENT, but indifferent-pshaw! he doth it not Like one who is his craft's master-ne'ertheless THOU hast each secret of the household, Francis. I dare be sworn thou hast been in the buttery, Steeping thy curious humor in fat ale, THE sacred tapers' lights are gone, The bell has ceased to toll. The long ribbed aisles are burst and shrunk, Departed is the pious monk, Rediviva. AND when Love's torch hath set the heart in flame, Comes Seignior Reason, with his saws and cautions, Giving such aid as the old gray-beard Sexton, Who from the church-vault drags his crazy engine, To ply its dribbling ineffectual streamlet Against a conflagration. Old Play. YES, it is she whose eyes looked on thy childhood, And watched with trembling hope thy dawn of youth, That now, with these same eyeballs, dimmed with age, And dimmer yet with tears, sees thy dishonor. Old Play. IN some breasts passion lies concealed and silent, Like war's swart powder in a castle vault, Until occasion, like the linstock, lights it; Then come at once the lightning and the thunder, And distant echoes tell that all is rent asunder. Old Play. DEATH distant? - No, alas! he's ever with us, Ay, Pedro, -come you here with mask and lantern, Ladder of ropes, and other moonshine tools Why, youngster, thou mayst cheat the old Ďuenna, Flatter the waiting-woman, bribe the valet; IT is a time of danger, not of revel, Ay, sir― our ancient crown, in these wild times, The Spanish Father. From Kenilworth NOT serve two masters? - Here's a youth will try it Would fain serve God, yet give the devil his due; Says grace before he doth a deed of villany, And returns his thanks devoutly when 't is acted. Old Play. He was a man Versed in the world as pilot in his compass. The needle pointed ever to that interest Which was his loadstar, and he spread his sails With vantage to the gale of others' passion. The Deceiver, a Tragedy. THIS is he Who rides on the court-gale; controls its tides; |