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Let them all perish !—And if one be found
Amidst our band, to stay th' avenging steel
For pity or remorse, or boyish love,

Then be his doom as theirs!

Why gaze ye thus ? Brethren, what means your silence?

Gui.

Be it so !

If one amongst us stay th' avenging steel
For love or pity, be his doom as theirs!
Pledge we our faith to this!

Rai.

Our faith to this!

No! I but dreamt I heard it !—Can it be?

My countrymen, my father!—Is it thus

That freedom should be won ?-Awake! Awake
To loftier thoughts!-Lift up, exultingly,

[A pause.

On the crown'd heights, and to the sweeping winds,
Your glorious banner!-Let your trumpet's blast
Make the tombs thrill with echoes! Call aloud,
Proclaim from all your hills, the land shall bear
The stranger's yoke no longer!—What is he
Who carries on his practised lip a smile,
Beneath his vest a dagger, which but waits
Till the heart bounds with joy, to still its beatings?
That which our nature's instinct doth recoil from,
And our blood curdle at-Ay, yours and mine—
A murderer!-Heard ye?-Shall that name with ours
Go down to after days ?-Oh, friends! a cause
Like that for which we rise, hath made bright names
Of the elder time as rallying-words to men,
Sounds full of might and immortality!

And shall not ours be such?

Mont.

Fond dreamer, peace!

Fame! What is fame ?-Will our unconscious dust

Start into thrilling rapture from the grave,

At the vain breath of praise?—I tell thee, youth,

Our souls are parch'd with agonizing thirst,

Which must be quench'd though death were in the draught : We must have vengeance, for our foes have left

No other joy unblighted.

Pro.

Oh! my son,

The time is past for such high dreams as thine.

Thou know'st not whom we deal with. Knightly faith,
And chivalrous honour, are but things whereon
They cast disdainful pity. We must meet
Falsehood with wiles, and insult with revenge.

Rai.

Procida, know,

I shrink from crime alone. Oh! if my voice
Might yet have power amongst you, I would say,
Associates, leaders, be avenged! but yet

As knights, as warriors!

Mont.

Peace! have we not borne

Th' indelible taint of contumely and chains?
We are not knights and warriors. Our bright crests
Have been defiled and trampled to the earth.
Boy! we are slaves-and our revenge shall be
Deep as a slave's disgrace.

Rai.

I leave you to your counsels.

Why, then farewell;

He that still

Would hold his lofty nature undebased,

And his name pure, were but a loiterer here.

SECTION XIV.

SIR JOSEPH BANKS-PETER.....John Wolcott.

Sir Joseph. YOUR meaning, friend, I easily divine! Peter. Yes, quit for life the chair-resign, resign. Sir J. No, with contempt the grinning world I see, And always laugh at those who laugh at me.

Pet. To steal a point then, may I never thrive

But you must be the merriest man alive.

Sir J. Good!-but, my friend, 'twould be a black November,

To lose the chair, and sneak a vulgar member;
Sit on a bench mumchance without my hat,

Sunk from a lion to tame tom cat:

Just like a schoolboy trembling o'er his book,
Afraid to move, or speak, or think, or look,
When Mr. President, with mastiff air,
Vouchsafes to grumble 'Silence' from the chair.
Pet. All this is mortifying to be sure,

And more than flesh and blood can well endure !
Then to your turnip fields in peace retire:
Return, like Cincinnatus, country 'squire.
Thus, though proud London dares refuse you fame,
The towns of Lincolnshire shall raise your name,
Knock down the bear, and bull, and calf, and king,
And bid Sir Joseph on their signposts swing.

Let them all perish !—And if one be found
Amidst our band, to stay th' avenging steel
For pity or remorse, or boyish love,

Then be his doom as theirs!

Why gaze ye thus ? Brethren, what means your silence?

Be it so!

Gui.
If one amongst us stay th' avenging steel
For love or pity, be his doom as theirs!
Pledge we our faith to this!

Rai.

Our faith to this!

No! I but dreamt I heard it !-Can it be?

My countrymen, my father!-Is it thus

That freedom should be won ?-Awake! Awake
To loftier thoughts!-Lift up, exultingly,

[A pause.

On the crown'd heights, and to the sweeping winds,
Your glorious banner!-Let your trumpet's blast
Make the tombs thrill with echoes!
Call aloud,
Proclaim from all your hills, the land shall bear
The stranger's yoke no longer!—What is he
Who carries on his practised lip a smile,
Beneath his vest a dagger, which but waits
Till the heart bounds with joy, to still its beatings?
That which our nature's instinct doth recoil from,
And our blood curdle at-Ay, yours and mine—
A murderer!-Heard ye?-Shall that name with ours
Go down to after days ?—Oh, friends! a cause
Like that for which we rise, hath made bright names
Of the elder time as rallying-words to men,
Sounds full of might and immortality!

And shall not ours be such?

Mont.

Fond dreamer, peace!

Fame! What is fame ?-Will our unconscious dust

Start into thrilling rapture from the grave,

At the vain breath of praise?—I tell thee, youth,

Our souls are parch'd with agonizing thirst,

Which must be quench'd though death were in the draught: We must have vengeance, for our foes have left

No other joy unblighted.

Pro.

Oh! my son,

The time is past for such high dreams as thine.

Thou know'st not whom we deal with. Knightly faith,
And chivalrous honour, are but things whereon
They cast disdainful pity. We must meet
Falsehood with wiles, and insult with revenge.

Rai.

Procida, know,

I shrink from crime alone. Oh! if my voice
Might yet have power amongst you, I would say,
Associates, leaders, be avenged! but yet

As knights, as warriors!

Mont.

Peace! have we not borne
Th' indelible taint of contumely and chains?
We are not knights and warriors. Our bright crests
Have been defiled and trampled to the earth.
Boy! we are slaves-and our revenge shall be
Deep as a slave's disgrace.

Rai.

I leave you to your counsels.

Why, then farewell;

He that still

Would hold his lofty nature undebased,

And his name pure, were but a loiterer here.

SECTION XIV.

SIR JOSEPH BANKS-PETER.....John Wolcott.

Sir Joseph. YOUR meaning, friend, I easily divine! Peter. Yes, quit for life the chair-resign, resign. Sir J. No, with contempt the grinning world I see, And always laugh at those who laugh at me.

Pet. To steal a point then, may I never thrive

But you must be the merriest man alive.

Sir J. Good!-but, my friend, 'twould be a black November,

To lose the chair, and sneak a vulgar member;

Sit on a bench mumchance without my hat,
Sunk from a lion to tame tom cat:

Just like a schoolboy trembling o'er his book,
Afraid to move, or speak, or think, or look,
When Mr. President, with mastiff air,
Vouchsafes to grumble 'Silence' from the chair.
Pet. All this is mortifying to be sure,

And more than flesh and blood can well endure !
Then to your turnip fields in peace retire:
Return, like Cincinnatus, country 'squire.
Thus, though proud London dares refuse you fame,
The towns of Lincolnshire shall raise your name,
Knock down the bear, and bull, and calf, and king,
And bid Sir Joseph on their signposts swing.

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