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triumph over him. He therefore ordered Pindarus to quit his station on the hill, and receive the last commands of his master. Pindarus was his bondman, taken prisoner in Parthia, and was bound by oath to perform his master's bidding, be it what it might when commanded therefore by him to plunge the sword into his heart, he dared not disobey; and Cassius perished even by the very weapon with which he had stabbed the noble Cæsar !

Scarce was the last breath fled, ere Titinius returned in triumph. The troops by which he had been surrounded were those of Brutus; the shouts were of joy at hearing the news of Cassius's safety; and Titinius returned with the happy tidings that the troops of Brutus had gained as much advantage over Octavius's powers, as Antony had over Cassius. The news, however, was breathed in a senseless ear; and Titinius, who tenderly loved Cassius, plunged the sword yet reeking with the blood of his friend, into his own breast, and fell dying by his side.

When the intelligence reached the ears of Brutus, it pierced him to the heart. He shed tears on the inanimate form of him who once was Cassius; and having given orders that his body should be convey ed from the camp, lest it should dispirit the soldiers, he rallied his drooping spirits, and rushed into the battle's heat, where he fought valiantly, but vainly. Antony was victorious; and Brutus, after much entreaty, at length prevailed on one of his attendant to hold his sword whilst he ran upon it. The stroke was sure; and Brutus fell, never to rise again!

Octavius and Mark Antony found him stretched on the ground, and bestowed the tribute of praise to his memory. Antony's resentment ended with the life of Brutus; and thus to all around he declared him :

This was the noblest Roman of them all:
All the conspirators, save only he,
Did that they did, in envy of great Cæsar;

He only, in a general honest thought,
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle; and the elements
So mixed in him, that nature might stand up,
And say to all the world, "This was a man." ** *

By the order of Octavius Cæsar, the corse of Brutus was conveyed to his own tent, there to remain till due preparations were made for his funeral; and, on the following day the obsequies were performed with all solemnity and respect, befitting a Roman and a warrior.

Conspiracy doth seldom prosper long-
The seal of Providence sits not thereon
To mark the road of safety and of power.
Pride is the surest prelude to defeat-
That dangerous pride which soars beyond itself
Presuming to o'erthrow what heaven permits.
The wise Omnipotent did ne'er decree

That man of man should be both judge and umpire.
"Judge not, or lest ye likewise shall be judged."
So speaks, (recounting the commands of God!)
That sacred page, which never yet spake wrong.
More strongly yet our bless'd Redeemer speaks :-
"Remove the mote from thine own jaundic'd eye,
Ere in thy brother's thou shalt trace the beam."
Doctrines unknown, indeed, when Brutus liv'd;
So e'en Religion's self might find excuse
For Brutus' deed, had Brutus not been wise,
And noble, honourable, just, and brave;
But being thus! that he could stain his soul,
His glories taint-with foul ingratitude!
Casts on his name and memory a shade
Which dims the lustre of his better deeds.
Nor can the pompous praise of patriotism
Blot out, in Virtue's eye, the tinge of blood.!
Vain sophistry! to think high sounding phrase
Or vain parade of lofty blandishment,
Or all the powers of winning eloquence,
Or e'en th' ameliorating hand of time,
Can sanctify what judgment must condemn,
Or give to vice the colouring of virtue !




Now Rumour, with her many hundred tongues,
Floats on the passing breeze.


So farewell-Brutus-Cassius-Antony,
Kings, queens, and princes-train imperial-
Heroes and common men, knights and fair dames
Lovers, coquettes and prudes, husbands and wives,
And all those groupes of varied characters
Who have my numerous pages graced-Perchance
By me ungraced-For a brief space-farewell!

Brief! if my novel enterprise succeed

If else! Why else ?-Why press the mind with doubt ?

"Our doubts are traitors,

"And make us lose the good we oft might win, By fearing to attempt.


Hope lures us on from day to day;-but yet
Unequal is the fate of humankind:

The sport of Fortune in her wayward mood,
Or favourite of her uncertain smiles,
Just as her gay capricious fancy wills!


Shakspeare! thy muse did playfully display
The seven ages of thy fellow man:
Passing from Infancy to peevish Age;
Digressing thence to Infancy again-
(To infant weakness without infant charms.)
Most strange declension, yet most true effec
And portraiture of frail mortality.
And may we not portray the sons of song
Even thus;-bewildered in a labyrinth
Of strange variety-eventful cares?
First lassitude, resembling Infancy,


Nurs'd in the fost'ring arms of Education;
And by the careful nymph, Instruction, tended.
Grave Apprehension next, with schoolboy pace,


Unwilling to advance from very fear;
Looking at danger with a timid heart,
But not surmounting-then fell Cowardice steals
Athwart the mind-like sighs and tears athwart
The lover's soul.

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