"But thee, my flower, whose breath was given By milder genii o'er the deep, The spirits of the white man's heaven Nor will the Christian host, Nor will thy father's spirit, grieve Of her who loved thee most: "To-morrow let us do or die! But when the bolt of death is hurled, Seek we thy once-loved home? The hand is gone that cropped its flowers; Its echoes and its empty tread Would sound like voices from the dead. "Or shall we cross yon mountains blue, Whose streams my kindred nation quaffed, And by my side, in battle true, A thousand warriors drew the shaft? Ah! there, in desolation cold, The desert serpent dwells alone, Where grass o'ergrows each mouldering bone, Then seek we not their camp; for there "But hark, the trump! to-morrow thou In glory's fires shalt dry thy tears: Amidst the clouds that round us roll: He bids my soul for battle thirst: From Outalissi's soul; Because I may not stain with grief LESSON CXXXVII. Reflections of Cardinal Wolsey after his Fall from the Favor of Henry VIII. SHAKSPEARE. Wol. FAREWELL, a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honors thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening-nips his root; And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors! Never to hope again. Enter CROMWELL, amazedly. Why, how now, Cromwell? Crom. I have no power to speak, sir. Wol. What, amazed At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep, Crom. How does your grace? Wol. Why, well; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities A still and quiet conscience. The king has cured me, I humbly thank his grace, and from these shoulders, These ruined pillars, out of pity, taken A load would sink a navy- too much honor. O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden, Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven. Crom. I am glad your grace has made that right use of it. Wol. I hope I have. I am able now, methinks, (Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,) To endure more miseries, and greater far, Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. What news abroad? Crom. The heaviest, and the worst, Is your displeasure with the king. Wol. God bless him! Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord chancellor, in your place. Wol. That's somewhat sudden; But he's a learned man. May he continue Long in his highness' favor, and do justice For truth's sake, and his conscience; that his bones, Crom. That Cranmer is returned with welcome, Wol. That's news, indeed. Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne, Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, Only about her coronation. Wol. There was the weight that pulled me down! O Cromwell, The king has gone beyond me; all my glories, In that one woman, I have lost forever. No sun shall ever usher forth mine honors, Or gild again the noble troops that waited Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell; To be thy lord and master. Seek the king; (I know his noble nature) not to let Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell, Crom. O my lord, Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego The king shall have my service; but my prayers Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear Let's dry our eyes; and thus far hear me, Cromwell; And sleep in dull, cold marble, where no mention Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee; Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, And silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. Thy God's, and truth's; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, And, Pr'ythee, lead me in: There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny; 'tis the king's; my robe, And my integrity to Heaven, is all I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, Crom. Good sir, have patience. Wol. So I have. Farewell The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell. |