livC 
 
I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS,! 
 
 
 I UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. | 
 

L YTEEI A : 
 
 4 
 
 A DRAMATIC POEM 
 
 V 
 
 
 Ha^ 
 
 
 BOSTON: 
 TICK NOR AND FIELDS 
 
 MDCCCL1V. 
 
.9 ?/-<? 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1S54, by 
 
 TICK NOR AND FIELDS, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 boston: 
 thurston', torrt, axd emerson, printers. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 There is a beautiful thought somewhere 
 expressed by Jean Paul Richter, that, to the 
 Unseen Spirit, each age of the world appears 
 far more noble, than in the record it leaves 
 behind. History and tradition tell us chiefly 
 of the self-sacrifice of men; while another class 
 of heroic deeds — those wrought by woman in 
 her social relations, and consequently unsus- 
 tained by present applause, or the hope of 
 future fame — are unchronicled. 
 
 The purpose of the following poem is to ex- 
 hibit feminine devotion, put to the highest 
 possible proof; thereby to suggest how often 
 the greatest achievements of man result from 
 domestic promptings, given through personal 
 suffering, that the world suspects, as little as 
 it could understand. 
 
 The liberties taken with the tradition of the 
 Curtian leap in its present dramatic form, are 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 excused by precedents too common and well 
 known to be quoted. The noxious exhalations 
 of the gulf (which have actually attended 
 similar fissures) must be supposed, in order to 
 create a necessity sufficiently strong for so 
 great a sacrifice. 
 
 An approach has been made to the unities 
 of time and place. The incidents of each act 
 are given in a single scene, and the period of 
 action is less than three days. 
 
 In attempting this most difficult form of 
 composition, — a dramatic poem of artistic con- 
 struction, elevated sentiment, and forcible dic- 
 tion, — a strong sense was entertained of the 
 many requirements, and consequent possibili- 
 ties of failure, attending its execution. It was 
 also not forgotten that such a production, even 
 when good, is to the taste of comparatively 
 few, and can seldom meet the success of gen- 
 eral popularity. 
 
 . Several lines, purposely incomplete, will be 
 found throughout the poem. Indebtedness is 
 likewise acknowledged to the novel Zanoni, 
 for the suggestion of one or two passages in 
 the first act. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Lucius Genucius — Consul. 
 
 Doslius — High Priest in the Temple of Jupiter. 
 
 Marcus Curtius — A noble Roman. 
 
 A i lus and Prothus — Priests of Jupiter. 
 
 Publius— Friend to Curtius. 
 
 Lytebia — Daughter to Dailius. 
 
 Scene — Borne. 
 
ACT I. 
 
 Apartment in the Temple of Jupiter — Arch at 
 
 Centre — Doors seen through the Arch. 
 
 Dailius discovered. Enter Aulus. 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 The length'ning shadows tell the hour of prayer 
 Will soon revisit us. Is all prepared 
 For evening sacrifice ? — our altars heap'd 
 With choicest fruits that frugal Earth provides, 
 To pay her children's labor ? — For this night, 
 That finds our city bathed in quietness 
 So perfect, asks a bloodless offering. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 All is prepared. Each shrine is decked for 
 
 service ; — 
 Yet I had thought, upon these festivals, 
 When men have clamor 1 d the high praise of Jove, 
 For hours in his temple, 't was our custom 
 
8 LYTERIA : 
 
 To leave unsaid the private ritual, 
 Which days of quiet pay the setting sun. 
 Thine age demands a season of repose, 
 After the tedious rites of sacrifice 
 But now concluded. 
 
 DffiLIUS. 
 
 The eternal Powers, 
 By whom we are created, fed, and bless'd, 
 May justly claim each moment they bestow. 
 The longest ]if e of man is all too short 
 To utter his thanksgiving for that word 
 Which called him out of nothing, and bestow'd 
 Capacity to taste celestial joys, 
 That, sometime, in this tenement of flesh, 
 Shadow the great hereafter of our hope. 
 No, Aulus ! while this frame (unbent by time) 
 Can serve before the altar, be assured 
 That each awakening morn and closing eve 
 Shall find me prostrate to adore the Gods, — 
 Whose blessings shower'd upon my latter years, 
 Are concentrate in one rich gift — My Child. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Yes ! Well may'st thou be thankful that a. form 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 9 
 
 Of such perfection, is but dwelling meet 
 
 For the fair spirit that inhabits it ; — 
 
 While to our sacred caste, from which the state 
 
 Takes the blest influence of domestic ties, 
 
 The presence of Lyteria in the temple, 
 
 Stands forth a fair embodiment to sense, 
 
 Of the pure love and pitying charity, 
 
 With which we trust the pard'ning Gods behold 
 
 The weakness of their servants. 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Her clear soul 
 Has been my chiefest comfort, since, preferr'd 
 From the rough trade of arms, I chose this place 
 To wait life's solemn issue ; — And I think 
 She shall be call'd to show w T hat virtue gives 
 The fellowship of those, whose sober office 
 Best may instruct the mind to follow Truth 
 Undoubting. She, who died in giving me 
 This trust, declared by that strange inspiration, 
 Which sometimes speaks, ere the last thread is 
 
 broke, 
 'That this our child should be reserved by Jove 
 For some great service. Thus, her soul received 
 
10 LYTERIA : 
 
 Sweet consolation for the prayer denied — 
 That life's last pains should give a son to Rome. 
 But, Aulus, now no praise of our loved child, 
 For I must hear no more upon a theme 
 That never yet was tedious. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Must I then 
 Believe thy shrinking movement to imply 
 A knowledge — a suspicion — a vague fear — 
 That we thy underlings in silence share, 
 Not daring to becloud the father's heart 
 With our too ready fancies. All our priests 
 Are fool'd, to think thy observation dull 
 To that sad change that must concern thee most. 
 Yes! — thou hast mark'd the maiden's downcast 
 
 brow — 
 Her thoughtful visage, shrinking from the light 
 That flashes strangely from her speaking eye: — 
 Thou learn'st with us, to deem the hour accurst, 
 When, at the Consul's order, we received 
 A noble student in this sacred fane. — 
 Perish the day when our unwilling gates 
 Admitted Marcus Curtius! 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 11 
 
 DGELIUS. 
 
 Nay ! — Enough ! 
 At seeming evil man should not repine, 
 Since there may lurk a blessing undeserved, 
 'Neath its dark mantle. Yet, if 'tis decreed 
 That some great trial mark my close of life, 
 I feel, the humble minister of heaven 
 Should not lack strength to bear its chastise- 
 ment. 
 Still am I bless'd ; secure that no reproach 
 Can ever sully the pure soul of her, 
 Whose nature, all unselfish, scarcely knows 
 A struggle in the sacrifice of aught 
 That men hold dearest ; and whose simple heart, 
 Warmed by divine affection, finds its peace 
 In the prime duty of religion — Prayer. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Well may'st thou trust the nurture of the Child 
 Will triumph in the Woman. We but fear'd 
 No change could bring more happiness to one, 
 Whose every moment seemed a quiet joy. 
 Yet if young Curtius, upon whom descend 
 The wealth, hopes, and ambition of a house, 
 
12 LYTERIA : 
 
 The noblest in our city — should he be 
 Allow'd to wed Lyteria — 
 
 D03LIUS. 
 
 Thou speak'st 
 The single doubt that weighs upon my soul. 
 'Tis most unlike, the Consul Lucius, 
 The guardian of Marcus, the tried friend 
 And kinsman of his father, should forget 
 The claims of station, family, and wealth, 
 By favoring a marriage, so removed 
 From all the circumstance of birth and dower, 
 That such high state and generous service ask. 
 Yet, if some unforeseen or strange event 
 Could sanctify this union, I must own 
 There is no man more worthy the pure love 
 A maiden's heart can offer, than this Curtius. 
 His earliest youth was given to pursuits 
 That have enlarged the patriotic zeal, 
 And soldier's hardness he inherited. 
 Yet when our legions with late conquest flush'd, 
 Return'd to riot and corrupt discourse — 
 Our valiant Curtius, upon whom the state 
 Lavished her proudest honors, putting off 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 13 
 
 The batter'd helmet and the well-worn sword, 
 Came to this temple, in such modest garb 
 As fits the humble student of the Truth, 
 Reveal' d to earth through Heaven's ministers. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Should he deserve thy praise, be well assured 
 He will break through all barriers that the world 
 May place between Lyteria and his love. 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Yet it would show most foully in ourselves 
 To countenance a marriage, which must bring 
 Disgrace upon this temple, if unknown 
 To Lucius, our great Patron. Every claim 
 Of honor we must grant, through any cost 
 Of private sacrifice. And now, 't is right 
 Our daughter should be warn'd of this resolve, — 
 And Marcus hinder'd for some little time 
 From entering our portals. These two duties 
 (The first most harrowing to a father's heart) 
 Must be accomplish'd ere the risen moon 
 Shall be reflected in old Tiber's waves. 
 Summon Lyteria to me : — The first task 
 
14 LYTERTA : 
 
 Should be the hardest ; I will speak to her — 
 And after, warn the guardian of the youth, 
 Whose presence has so broken the repose 
 That should possess this temple. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Yet observe 
 How hastily the Consul's officer 
 Presses through yonder court : 'Tis like he comes 
 Charged with some sudden order of his master. 
 {Enter Messenger.) 
 
 MESSENGER. 
 
 Lucius sends greeting to the priests of Jove, 
 And craves some present conference with their 
 
 Chief. 
 Before the hour of evening sacrifice, 
 He will seek Dcelius in this place, alone. 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 I shall await his visit. 
 
 [Exit Messenger. 
 Now behold, 
 How some kind fate appears to aid the task 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 15 
 
 Allotted to my age. The worst must soon 
 Be over. Even now soft echoes, waked 
 By a light footstep, tell the near approach 
 Of her, whose coming brings for the first time 
 No thrill of happiness. Leave us together, — 
 But when the final beam of tired Day, 
 Gilding the antique shield suspended near 
 The statue of the Warrior Deity, 
 Shall mark the hour for worship, — summon me 
 To join the evening service. I shall need 
 The calming rites of sacrifice and prayer. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 I shall obey these orders ; well assured 
 That out of every trouble peace may come, 
 To those who nobly bear life's discipline. 
 
 [Exit Aulus. 
 
 DC3LIUS. 
 
 'T is a harsh duty ! How can I dispel 
 This dear delusion that has thrill'd a soul 
 With the deep joy of passion ! 
 Vain — vain, for man to quench the heaven-lit 
 flame, 
 
16 LYTERIA: 
 
 In whose warm glow the Gods permit our hearts 
 To taste celestial pleasure! Give me strength — 
 Strength — to assail the life where most I live. 
 
 (Enter Lyteria.) 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Alone, dear father ! Of the eager throng 
 Of priests and nobles, that so lately stood 
 To see this day's great service, has not one 
 Remain'd, — not one, to bear thee company? 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Nay, thou must know, Lyteria, there are times 
 When the exalted soul craves solitude. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 I have well known such seasons; — when the 
 
 mind, 
 Kenned and loosen'd from the earthly tie, 
 Which binds its essence to material form, 
 Finds human sympathy far, far below 
 The sphere where it inhabits. 
 Then, we must seek communion with bright 
 
 things 
 That ever float about us. Unperceived, 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 17 
 
 These phantoms are to this, our mortal sight ; 
 But their sweet presence, mocking aid from 
 
 sense, 
 Inspires the doubting soul with trust divine. 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Happy the breast whose consciousness is fill'd 
 With such fair images! May thy young heart 
 Cleave only to such fancies. Let thy love 
 Exhaust itself on nature's endless form. 
 Impose no hope on aught within the pale 
 Of this most narrow being ; so shall a state, 
 The happiest humanity can know, 
 Be given for thy portion. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Thou art wrong, 
 Father ; thou canst not trust the words thy lips 
 Have used. Our life sometimes denies our 
 
 speech. 
 All the delight that contemplation gives, 
 Each joy afforded by the natural world, 
 Shows a dim vision of one perfect bliss, 
 That is our heritage. My heart has leap'd 
 To see the untired Phoebus coming forth 
 2 
 
18 LYTERIA : 
 
 To work his daily miracle — I knew 
 
 An awful pleasure, when the crashing bolt 
 
 Told men the wrath of Jove — the glorious 
 
 Arch, 
 That spann'd the clearing sky — the deep repose 
 Of the moon-silver'd lake — the thousand notes 
 That swell the song of spring — all these have 
 
 charm'd 
 My growing spirit: — Yet I late have learn'd 
 How mortal is such pleasure, when compared 
 With the great presence of that ecstasy, 
 Which frees our being from the cell of self, 
 And joineth soul to soul. 
 
 DffiLIUS. 
 
 I must be plain, 
 Since craft of speech ill suits the warning voice, 
 That nature utters through a parent's lips. 
 There is no bliss that man should not resign, 
 W T hen Heaven demands the favor it has lent. 
 That silence, so long kept between us, child, 
 Finds here an end. This daily intercourse, 
 With one whom place and rank hold from the 
 choice, 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 19 
 
 Where young affection points, must cease at 
 
 once. 
 When at the hour of sunset, our huge gates 
 Swing harshly on their hinges, they must close 
 For the last time on Curtius : And I warn thee, 
 By the strong interest that makes thy peace 
 Far dearer than mine own, dismiss this man 
 Forever from thy thought. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Father, — thou know'st 
 That I have ever loved thee ; ever watched 
 To do thy slightest pleasure. Now a power 
 That I may not resist forbids obedience. 
 All my existence is so bound with his, 
 Whose love paints life like some rare festival, 
 That separation would but cause the soul 
 To break this feeble fetter of dull earth, 
 And wander forth to seek his company. 
 
 DGELIUS. 
 
 Thou show'st, my daughter, that rebellious will 
 Which cleaves to our base nature ; strongest 
 
 ever 
 When our desire must never be attain'd. 
 
20 LYTERIA : 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Nay, let us think that nature's noblest strength 
 Is only waked by trial ; thal^ Devotion, 
 Unknown save to its object, may be shown 
 Before the world, and conquer every doubt 
 That shadows what we are. ■ 
 
 DffiLIUS. 
 
 My words have been 
 In kindness ; that thy heart (our purpose known) 
 May seem to offer freely the release, 
 That else must be compell'd. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 No human power 
 Can separate the souls that fly together 
 By sacred impulse, and a law as fixed 
 As that which holds night's burning fires in air, 
 And brings to man their lustre. Our weak bonds 
 Fetter in vain the hands of Destiny. 
 For I have learn'd that pure and holy love 
 Is unextinguish'd by the chilling touch 
 Of earth, which soon must cover our frail forms. 
 But, if the soul continues to exist 
 In a more glorious being, so shall those 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 21 
 
 Affections which made up its life, increase 
 To nobler fervor — Vows that here unite 
 Two kindred hearts shall be preserved forever. 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Enough: — my cruel duty is discharged. 
 The task that yet remains must be perform'd 
 By stronger hands than mine. 
 
 The eastern gates 
 Admit some strangers — Yes ! the Consul comes, 
 Surrounded by his household officers ; 
 J Tis as I fear'd — He brings no comfort here! 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 He does — he does — for Curtius follows him! 
 [Enter Lucius and officers. Lucius salutes 
 DgbUus, and they pass through the Arch at 
 centre in conversation. Curtius comes for- 
 ward to meet Lyteria. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 The closing day reserves its richest gift 
 To crown the final hour. This evening meeting, 
 Long'd for through all the feasts and sacred rites 
 To-day has witness'd, now appears a joy 
 
22 LYTERIA : 
 
 Deeper than dreams can bring us. Few awake 
 To find the fair imaginings of night, 
 Endow'd with substance at the touch of Day. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 I do return thy greeting ; and confess 
 My heart is stirr'd with a divine emotion, 
 As these fond eyes again are fill'd with thee. 
 Yes! There may be all human bars between 
 
 us — 
 "Wealth, rank, the world, the will and chains of 
 
 power — 
 But there can be no longer that Abyss, 
 Whose blackness, ere our mutual love was 
 
 known, 
 Kept us divided. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 We need have no fear, 
 That any cloud is lowering above. 
 This day I have revealed my dearest wish 
 To Lucius; who, with a father's power, 
 Unites a father's kindly interest, 
 In all I have at heart. We shall be join'd 
 With his approval, and thy gentle soul, 
 Purer than mine, shall ever bear it up, 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 23 
 
 E'en as the smoke of sacrifice ascends 
 Freighted with prayer to Jove. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 So may it prove ! 
 And yet there is a something whispers here, 
 That warns me of a dark and trying time, 
 That lowers in the future — No, 't is not 
 The mocking trick of Fancy, — for last night, 
 While sleep restored the body, I beheld, 
 Robed in celestial beauty, a bright form 
 That smiled upon me sadly, and breath'd forth 
 Words, whose clear utterance thrills my waking 
 
 sense, 
 As I recall them : — 
 
 " Daughter, do not shrink 
 From any grief the Right may offer thee : — 
 A perfect love is ready to resign 
 Its object, vjhen that object's truest fame 
 Demands a sacrifice so terrible." 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Why, what a curse were our existence here, 
 If the distorted visions of the night 
 Reveal' d our future ! 
 
24 LYTERIA : 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Yet some seasons come 
 To every life, when the dark veil is lifted ; 
 When we behold things, which shall be here- 
 after, — 
 And thus receive warning, impression, counsel, 
 Not brought through avenues of mortal sense. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Think only of the present, which appears 
 So prodigal in blessing. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Know'st thou all ! 
 My father has declared against our union, 
 And asks a resignation of that love, 
 I pray each hour to make more wholly mine. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 I will not question that thy soul disdains 
 Submission to such order ! 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 For thy success, 
 Or thy true glory, I could yield all claim. 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 25 
 
 But for another cause, never — Oh, never! 
 {Enter Lucius and Daslius.) 
 
 LUCIUS. 
 
 Nor shalt thou, Maiden, for the heavens smile 
 
 On such devotion, and no act of mine 
 
 Shall thwart their higher pleasure. Rome has 
 
 heard 
 Thy judgment, Marcus, much approved of late 
 In gravest matters — and we trust it here. 
 Receive the sanction of thy father's friend, 
 "Who willingly resigns those final trusts, 
 Placed in his hands, to shackle at the need 
 Youth's hot intemperance. Fortune is thine ; 
 And that high place in the regard of men, 
 More to be coveted. A deathless fame 
 May be thy future portion, if found true 
 To the fair promise of thy early days. — 
 And for you, lady, see you bear yourself 
 Worthy a Roman wife. Let no weak love 
 Restrain our Marcus from those stony paths, 
 That men must tread to glory. Make thy praise 
 Ever his great incentive to those deeds, 
 Which best become his place and family. 
 
26 LYTERIA : 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 No doubt can rest on her; — and my own life 
 Shall speak the value of the priceless gift, 
 I here do swear to cherish. 
 
 LUCIUS. 
 
 Dcelius, yield 
 A tardy sanction to thy daughter's choice. 
 Lyteria fears her father's chiding voice, 
 Alone may mar this hour of happiness. 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Jove's blessing be upon thee, dearest child, 
 And keep thee to his service ! So shall He 
 Enrich the parent heart which now is call'd 
 To yield its nearest trust. When late we parted. 
 I used the words that duty seem'd to prompt. 
 The Consul Lucius (so I truly thought) 
 Would ask a proud alliance for the youth, 
 His care had rear'd to service of such honor. 
 But since his presence dissipates this doubt, 
 I here do give thee freely that poor leave, 
 Which only sternest duty held before. 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 27 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Father, no new relation can absolve 
 Thy child from filial piety and love. 
 It still shall be my pleasure to support 
 Thy failing steps, and gently ease the slope 
 Toward nature's end, that none should tread 
 
 alone. — 
 My feeling, Sir, will not permit my lips 
 To thank you as they ought. I rather stand 
 Like the false virgin of Rome's early day, 
 Bovv'd with the weight of gifts, the Heavens send 
 In answer to my prayers. 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 All thou should'st say, 
 I have endeavor'd to interpret here. 
 Our guest is recompensed in joy bestow'd ; 
 The same reward that blesses the kind Gods 
 For all their favors. Yet I marvel much 
 What feeling prompted such a generous deed, 
 Not tending to the haughty interest 
 Of your patrician rank. 
 
 LUCIUS. 
 
 To answer that, 
 
28 LYTERIA : 
 
 Recalls a memory, the stricken heart 
 Has silently endured. Labor and Time, 
 Our griefs great comforters, can never heal 
 The burning wound from whence — when early 
 
 love 
 Is crush'd by Power, and trampled to the dust — 
 Ebbs daily our best life. I have done service 
 To this great city ; and the world has hail'd 
 My progress, as I walked the dangerous path, 
 Trodden by those who covet its applause — 
 Yet, I have borne about me a great void, 
 „That no distinction, no success can fill. — 
 But this dark grief has taught me to respect 
 Another's joy ; and never to incur 
 The wrath of heaven, by sundering young hearts, 
 Whom power divine impels to seek each other. 
 
 DGELTUS. 
 
 Our best instructions oft are found in strokes, 
 That torture as they teach. By such dark ways 
 The light of knowledge surely is reveal'd 
 To the truth-craving soul. Thou see'st yon shield 
 Already gilt with the last beam of day, — 
 Even so the night that comes upon our hopes, 
 Shall make our lives display some kindly deed, 
 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 2d 
 
 That the high noon of bliss had never brought. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 If through our woes some thankfulness should 
 
 shine, 
 Must we not, wrapt in blessing, recognize 
 The favors Heaven hath lately dealt to us ? 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 We are reminded well : The wonted time 
 Of evening adoration is at hand — 
 Our priests approach to service : May our hearts 
 Replete with gratitude, breathe earnest prayer. 
 
 [Doors at the back are thrown open. An altar 
 is discovered. Aulus and other priests enter.] 
 
 The Act closes. 
 
30 LYTERIA : 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 A public square before the Temple of Jupiter — 
 Enter Aldus from the temple, meeting- Prothus. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Welcome, good Prothus! Blessed be the god, 
 Who to this needy fane returns thy steps. 
 
 PROTHUS. 
 
 A power divine indeed has led me back; — 
 
 For by those natural warnings, which the skilled 
 
 May read to their great profit, I perceived 
 
 A sudden call for my poor ministration, 
 
 Before these altars hallow'd by the past. 
 
 Moved by such mystic impulse to resign 
 
 The quiet country, — where my wish had been 
 
 To waste some days inactive, — I have come 
 
 Eager to take the duty fate assigns. 
 
 And now, I pray thee, Aulus, quickly say, 
 
 What great event has hither beckon'd me? 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 31 
 
 This spacious place, traffic's accustom'd mart, 
 Is clothed in silence. At the outer gate 
 The watchmen glared upon me as I pass'd, 
 And bid me turn from the devoted city. 
 No busy hum in the frequented street, 
 Stifled the frighten'd echo. Haggard men, — 
 Tutor'd to bear in Penury's hard school, — 
 Whose only roof has been the heavy clouds, 
 That yet are fixed above us, scream'd that Jove 
 Waken'd to wrath, would crush the guilty earth, 
 And hurl it back to chaos. Speak at once, 
 What panic frenzies Rome ? What cause in- 
 spires 
 Language so fraught with terror ? 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Alas! The secret cause of wrath divine 
 Is only uttered by inspired lips, 
 Through which the god breathes darkly his be- 
 hest. 
 Already messengers despatched at dawn, 
 Haste to the favor'd oracle, where Jove 
 Reveals his awful will : at their return 
 A solemn sacrifice must be perform'd 
 In our own temple ; when our priests shall learn 
 
32 LYTERIA : 
 
 What expiation Heaven will accept, 
 To free the city from this chastisement. 
 
 PROTHUS. 
 
 May some atonement, to avert the doom 
 
 I gather from thy words, be granted us ! 
 
 Now, speak the grief that weighs thy spirit 
 
 down : — 
 The power of Evil which assails man's life 
 Hath put on some strange aspect ; yet the grief 
 Of each hot shaft, wing'd through the constant 
 
 strife, 
 Is something sooth'd by friendly sympathy. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 The greatest sorrow needs the smallest speech 
 In its rehearsal. Briefly then — Last night, 
 While certain of our priests linger'd to hear 
 Of the approaching marriage, which our chief 
 Shall shortly consecrate between young Marcus, 
 And the dear maid, whose presence melts the 
 
 chill 
 Which often rests upon devotion's shrine, — 
 While, as I say, we stood in eager talk, 
 The silver beam that Cynthia's crescent shot 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 33 
 
 Upon the pavement, changed to lurid red; — 
 Yon massive walls were heaved this way and 
 
 that, 
 Until the rocking floor threw on their knees 
 All waiting in the temple ; — as to show 
 That on the prayers her priests should offer 
 
 Heaven, 
 Hung "Rome's sole hope of pardon. Then, there 
 
 came 
 A prodigy more dreadful. The bright shield 
 Our fathers fixed, a votive gift before 
 His imaged form, who gave their wars success, — 
 Leap'd from its place, and striking at our feet 
 Shiver'd in ringing fragments ! 
 
 PROTHUS. 
 
 A sure sisfn.. 
 
 As our best Augurs ever have declared, 
 To warn the city of impending ill. 
 After this prodigy, did stillness reign ? 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 A calm succeeded; — yet the clouds, whose pall 
 Still presses on us, hid the lighted Arch. 
 3 
 
•34 LYTERIA : 
 
 The heavy breeze, muffled with sulphurous 
 
 smoke, 
 Brought distant voices; — Terror's piercing cry- 
 More and more keenly rent the startled air, — 
 Till soon a noisy crowd, beating our gates, 
 Called Doelius forth to quiet their dismay, 
 With words of manly calmness. Then we learnt 
 How great convulsion tore the heart of Rome, 
 And with its awful signet, stamp'd our world. 
 The unknown force that rocked our trembling 
 
 walls, 
 Had spent its fury near the Capitol: — 
 With startling might, it rent Earth's flinty breast, 
 And ere the frighten'd watchers could express 
 Their wonder by an utter'd syllable, 
 There yawn'd, e'en at their feet, a gulf profound ; 
 W 7 hile falling arch and palace shook the earth 
 With massive fragments. Yet I have declared 
 The smallest part of Rome's calamity. 
 For, from the dark abyss, whose gaping mouth 
 No human power may fill, a vapor thick 
 With deadly pestilence, blights those poor homes, 
 Which Ruin, satiate with man's proud works, 
 Left unmolested. To abate this plague 
 We wait in fear the Oracle's response ; 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 35 
 
 Firmly resolved to gain the heavenly grace, 
 By any means that grace may furnish us. 
 
 PROTHUS. 
 
 Now, I perceive, men have good cause to leave 
 Their daily business, and besiege each shrine 
 With penitential offering. May the Gods 
 Who so afflict us, moved by earnest prayer, 
 Declare what expiation Rome may give, 
 To win again their smile ! Yet 'mid this grief 
 Did I not hear one blessing all may share ? 
 This marriage — Have I understood thy words? 
 Shall the fair dawn of promise flush the cheek 
 Of our loved inmate? 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 'T is a joy that glows 
 Through darkness such as this. No cruel fate 
 Limits young passion, that may now invest 
 Its dreams and hopes with substance. Yet we see 
 Those patient services remember'd still, 
 To which Devotion gave Lyteria's youth. 
 For in the midst of Pestilence she stands, 
 With woman's tenderness to ease the ctfuch, 
 Where dying lips first murmur with a prayer. 
 
36 LYTERIA : 
 
 To the departing soul, her presence seems 
 Fit comrade for earth's past inhabitants, 
 Who, purged from mortal weakness, shall receive 
 The spirit newly ransom'd from its bonds, — 
 And bear it up enlighten'd. 
 
 PROTHUS. 
 
 But alone 
 She cannot watch in the dark house of death. 
 Surely, young Curtius waits with zealous care 
 To shield, with love's protection, the frail form 
 Encompass' d by such peril ? 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 'Twas his prayer, 
 Earnest and oft repeated, to decline 
 The offered mission to the Oracle, 
 And to attend with her the sad abodes, 
 Where 'custom'd duty beckon'd. But the maid 
 Claim'd his permission to discharge alone 
 Her wonted charity; — bidding him speed 
 With other nobles, to the shrine where Jove 
 Speaks through his chosen agent. "'Tis the 
 
 Right 
 That now divides us," ('twas her parting word) 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 37 
 
 " You go in pomp, the state's ambassador, 
 I, as the humble almoner through whom 
 Some higher spirit may impart its grace; — 
 Our duties, different in the eye of man, 
 Shall be of equal merit, if perform'd 
 With constancy, high purpose, and such strength, 
 As Heaven may send to aid our feebleness." 
 (Enter Dcelius from the Temple.) 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Why stand ye here in idle conference ? 
 
 Is it not known the messengers approach, 
 
 Bearing the sentence of the Oracle? 
 
 The Consul and our gravest citizens, 
 
 Are waiting to commence those solemn rites, 
 
 Which shall precede the reading of the words, 
 
 On which our lives must hang. Haste to your 
 
 place. 
 Prepare the sacred vessels ; deck the shrines ; 
 Lead forth the victims, and make all things fit; 
 While I, as is our custom, waiting here, 
 Receive the bearers of the great response, 
 And lead them to our Temple ; haste, for time 
 Rears heavily upon us. 
 
 f Exeunt Aldus and Prothus, 
 
88 LYTER1A : 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 How few hours, 
 Since all about this place were wrapp'd in peace; 
 And I, replete with calmness, as serene 
 As the smooth surface of the smiling sea, 
 Before some wrecking tempest ! Trouble came 
 With great convulsion ; and some mightier throe 
 I doubt, must end it. May the bolt strike here ! 
 Here — in this breast, before it touches hearts, 
 Whom the strong cords of love and earnest hope, 
 Bind firmly to the earth. 
 
 The measured step, 
 And plaintive chant, that fills the neighboring 
 
 street, 
 Announce our mission ended. 
 
 [Enter Curtius and the Messengers?) 
 
 Welcome, friends! 
 The hurried breath, flushed cheek, and travell'd 
 
 mien, 
 Witness your zeal towards Rome. Breathe for 
 
 an instant; — 
 Then ye shall tell the eager throng within, 
 What message is vouchsafed to comfort us. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Has she return'd ? 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 39 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Not yet; — but I have sent 
 To bid her leave that pious exercise, 
 Now fraught with so much danger. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Danger! yes, — 
 Full well I know the peril ; and would bid 
 Thy child brave all — all, but the wasting sense 
 Of duty's call unanswer'd — to escape 
 Such fearful service ; but in case like this, 
 Her impulse, more exalted than my will, 
 Demands submission. 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 From her earliest youth, 
 Such painful charities Lyteria chose 
 To earn the right to live. 'Twas thus she 
 
 drown'd 
 The constant question that our being asks, — 
 "What purpose is accomplish'd in thy life?" 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Oh, could I share this labor, I would ask 
 For her no respite: — But she only sees 
 The dart that Peril wings to other breasts. 
 
40 LYTERIA : 
 
 With an authority, and pleading love, 
 
 That man may not resist, still she commands 
 
 My absence from her danger. 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Thou art tried 
 In this obedience, though 'tis well enforced. 
 For by some hidden grace which Nature gives, 
 (Showing what duties she should undertake) 
 A fragile woman oft may stand unharm'd, 
 Where at each breath, air-tainting pestilence 
 Strikes giants to the earth. The Gods assign 
 To each, the part best fitted to the strength 
 Bestow'd by Nature : to the lusty arm, 
 Nerved by such mountain air and simple food, 
 As sicken pamper'd Ease, the work is given 
 To win the riches that the frugal earth 
 Hides in her bosom. From the cultured mind, 
 Rich in experience, mankind should draw 
 Lessons of wisdom ; while those gentle souls, 
 In whom affection blossoms, still dispense 
 Their fragrance to a world that little recks 
 From whence the sweetness flows. But hardest 
 
 tasks 
 Are kept for such true heroes, as outstrip 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 41 
 
 Their halting generation; — whose great lives 
 Old Time shall gently nestle to his breast, 
 And so bear on forever. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 My spirit burns to hear devoted deeds 
 That human will has compass'd ; and I pray 
 That some great service may demand my aid: 
 So that my name, absolved from fate's decree, 
 Shall be untouched by the sad law of Earth, 
 Which blots from memory the life of man, 
 Before the grave's decay and wasting worm 
 Consume his mortal dwelling. 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Wish for nothing — 
 Man cannot tell where his advantage lies. 
 Our humblest duties oft are surer steps 
 To self-content and honor, than proud heights 
 Where some rare chance may place us. I have 
 
 seen 
 The tortoise, toiling 'neath his cumbrous roof, 
 Snatched from his fellows by some hungry bird. 
 Aloft he soars ; till Phoebus' panting steeds 
 Draw their bright burden upward from the west, 
 
42 LYTERIA : 
 
 To gild his spotted armor; — now the earth 
 Distant, shows meanly ; and the pure, dry air 
 Plays pleasantly about him, as the fowl 
 Halts in her quick ascent ; — short is the triumph : 
 For rushing winds, that every moment cut 
 More keenly, tell the frightful speed that hurls 
 The creeping beast to ruin. Now the rock 
 Leaps to receive him; while his feather'd foe, 
 Whose lusty wings gave this bright eminence, 
 With eager shriek invites some distant mate 
 To share the quivering feast. By this be warn'd: 
 For every height on Fortune's dangerous steep, 
 Which men attain by outward circumstance, — 
 Lacking the native grace for such renown, — 
 Serves but to lengthen out their cruel fate, 
 When some stern trial, greater than their strength, 
 Shall dash them to the earth. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Thy prudent years 
 Have never yet lacked specious argument, 
 To thwart the craving for brave deeds, that burns 
 In younger hearts, whose native ardor feels 
 That Heaven asks action, — stern, heroic strife, 
 As usance due on this great debt of being. 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 43 
 
 DGELIUS. 
 
 Yet constant effort bravely to discharge 
 Some humble labor, brings a peace more calm, 
 Than the brief plaudits of a gaping world. 
 Freedom to choose, with will sick and infirm — 
 This is the drug, whose presence poisons oft 
 The brimming cup that Fortune offers him, 
 Men call her favorite. See thy peril there. 
 Chance and young courage have advanced thy 
 
 state 
 Beyond the 'custom'd mark. A higher place 
 May yet await thee ; which to fill, requires 
 Promptness in judging where thy duty points, 
 "With self-control to sink all selfish ends 
 To aid the general profit. 
 
 Now, enough 
 Upon this theme ; for it is time to read 
 The Oracle's response. Enter the temple, 
 Brothers, and fulfil your sacred mission. 
 
 [Exeunt Daelius and Messengers. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Why stand I here debating with my thought, 
 What noble deed demands my energy ? 
 Why envy those apprenticed to some craft, 
 
44 LYTERIA : 
 
 Which satisfies the soul's demand for toil ? 
 "Wisdom but heralds sorrow ; — since we know 
 The lofty ends our being should attain, 
 Though chain'd by feeling, habit, or by sloth, 
 To self's cramp'd dungeon; and condemn'd to 
 
 peer 
 Through the strong grating which our passions 
 
 forge, 
 To keep us prisoners from the cheerful world 
 Our fancy pictures ! Oh, for some task pre- 
 
 scrib'd ! 
 Would that some path, clearly defined, though 
 
 steep, 
 And hedged with brambles, open'd to my steps ! 
 Then, might I win the brightest prize of earth, 
 The sense of holding claim to that deep love, 
 Pour'd from a woman's heart. 
 
 (Enter Lyteria.) 
 
 The Gods be praised, 
 Who graciously restore their borrow'd gem ! 
 My joy to greet thee from the halls of death, 
 Would glow in sorrow's drops ; but that to see 
 Weakness made strength for deeds of charity, 
 Must make our manhood firmer. Yet declare 
 Thy safety. 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 45 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Every power is concentrate 
 In that one sense, that bears thy thrilling accents 
 To my soul : The air, thus freighted, gives a life 
 More dear, than winds, fresh from the open sea, 
 Bring the close street crowded by misery. 
 Yet tell me, Curtius, is it fit to leave, 
 Even for time most brief, my chosen place ? 
 For looking on such woe, who must not doubt 
 The right to hold a moment's sympathy 
 From the great sum of human wretchedness. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Thy debts are overpaid ; — Return no more, 
 Lest the red hand of Plague, provoked too long, 
 Clutch where I fear to think. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Could'st thou be moved 
 By any selfish dread to leave the post 
 Ordain'd by Heaven ? No ! — I know thee bet- 
 ter ; — 
 And will not think thou askest less devotion 
 From the firm heart, affection seals to thine. 
 Such aid as I can give, must be dispensed, 
 
46 LYTERIA : 
 
 Till man shall learn how to assuage the wrath, 
 Writ with such ghastly sign upon the earth. 
 Sights have been seen, to move celestial minds, 
 If their calm state is sway'd by human grief. 
 The dull, cold eye, death's instant harbinger, 
 Seems fixed upon me yet. The throes of 
 
 Strength, 
 Snatch'd rudely to the grasp of Pestilence — 
 The wife — the mother — stricken at the time, 
 When woman's care is man's sole comforter, — 
 The helpless babe, drawing from nature's font 
 Not nature's milk, but venom — these dread sights 
 Weigh'd on my soul, yet did not crush its life. 
 But as I gazed upon one last farewell, — 
 Where youth, with cheek still crimson from the 
 
 flush 
 Of answer'd passion, fill'd with noble zeal 
 To win earth's prizes — bent a glazing eye, 
 For the last time, on one for whose dear sake 
 He would be tied forever to the form, 
 Her love had render'd precious — then it was 
 A sudden horror seized me ; while I shrank 
 From some dim shadow that seem'd floating 
 
 past, 
 Whose stubborn finger pointed to this scene, 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 47 
 
 As something it would have me look upon. 
 This awful presence chill'd my life's warm tide ; 
 Yet now — how soon such mocking phantoms 
 
 fade — 
 Being again with thee. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Thou mayest well 
 Despise such visions; for no future grief 
 Can haunt us while united. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 As the rough furrows that the tempest writes 
 On some bleak battlement, make shelter'd nooks, 
 Wherein the vine's green shoots may safely 
 
 cling, 
 So shall my soul be brought still closer thine, 
 When Time's rude storms, that wear this outer 
 
 frame, 
 Open a nearer passage to thy heart. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 So fair a plant demands the noblest life, 
 In him bless'd by its fragrance. 
 
48 LYTERIA : 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 And unless 
 All 'custom' d tokens which to Rome foretell 
 Her coming heroes, mock us more than such 
 Great portents have ere this deceived the skilled, 
 Thou shalt stand forth chief in this generation. 
 Nay, tell me not that I interpret wrong 
 The people's voice, for, bruised 'neath such a 
 
 blow, 
 Some instinct shows a savior to the crowd. 
 Just now a thousand voices call'd thy name, 
 "When rumor'd wars startled the quiet street, 
 And Rome would choose her captain. While I 
 
 pass'd, 
 Oar gravest senators stopp'd to salute 
 The chosen bride of Curtius, whom they named 
 The city's champion. An aged priest 
 Whose spotless soul (so have the mass believed) 
 Reflects the coming time, bid me deserve 
 The choice of him, elected by the Gods 
 To save us all from ruin. Have I not 
 Reason to hold thy future fame most certain ? 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 So thou shalt point the way where honor lies, 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 49 
 
 None but a craven would refuse to tread 
 
 The roughest path, at whose extreme may glow 
 
 The guerdon of thy smile. 
 
 The op'ning gates 
 Announce the city's comfort. See what joy 
 Beams in the general visage. The response 
 Has been most happy. 
 
 (Enter Dcelius and Lucius from the Temple, fol- 
 lowed by Priests and citizens.) 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Jove be praised, my child, 
 Who brings thee out of peril ! The stern need 
 Of thy poor service presently shall cease, 
 Through his great mercy ; for the priests declare 
 An expiation, which shall free our lives 
 From threatening danger. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Words are weak to thank 
 The powers that stretch their mercy to fulfil 
 What few had dared to hope. This lifted stroke. 
 Must make our life's worst state an instant wear 
 A lustre to its holder; while my sky 
 Loses its only shadow. Say, what act 
 4 
 
50 LYTERIA : 
 
 Of expiation brings the world this peace ? 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Thus from his holy shrine proclainrd the God. 
 " The yawning' Earth will not be satisfied. 
 Till she receive what is most prized of Rome, 
 Into her hungry chasm" These few words 
 Contain'd our Oracle. Yet, when with prayer, 
 And grateful sacrifice, our messengers 
 Begg'd further knowledge, thus it was vouchsaf d. 
 " The treasure that Rome looks to, in her need, 
 Shinethfar brighter to the public gaze, 
 Than to his eye who holds it." 
 
 LUCIUS. 
 
 Soon shall Rome 
 Be ransom'd from her present suffering: 
 For Varrus nobly offers his rare gems, 
 Bright tokens of ancestral dignity, 
 As the prized tribute Heaven asks from man. 
 
 D03LIUS. 
 
 Should it not be our silver statue, clad 
 By cunning art with Jove's own majesty, 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 51 
 
 Which is demanded? This is valued more 
 By those who serve within these courts, than 
 
 pearls, 
 Or all the brilliants ever brought to deck 
 The feeble hand of Wealth. 
 
 LUCIUS. 
 
 Both shall be given, 
 Lest either prove too small; and some rich treas- 
 ure, 
 Drawn from the public coffers, shall increase 
 The offering demanded at our hands. 
 So shall we merit Jove's returning smile 
 By large obedience. 
 
 And now so soon 
 Must this affliction cease, we turn to business, 
 Which the strange peril forced us to neglect: — 
 Marcus, since War may call thee to the field, 
 'Tis well to leave a faithful wife at Rome, 
 Whose constant prayers may nerve her hero's arm 
 To deeds of valor. 
 
 Come to-morrow, friends, 
 To this great temple, as the witnesses 
 Of rites more joyful than this day has seen; 
 
52 LYTERIA : 
 
 For two young hearts, here join'd by holiest ties, 
 Shall bless each other. Doelius, prepare 
 All needful things for this solemnity. 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 The orders of the Consul are received. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Sir, for these last dear words I can but feel, 
 Not utter, gratitude. 
 
 LUCIUS. 
 
 See, Publius comes 
 To interrupt such task; — or it may chance 
 The news he bears gives thee a greater still. 
 (Enter Publius.) 
 
 PUBLIUS. 
 
 The grateful tidings I am call'd to bring, 
 
 Deserve a worthier herald. It is thought 
 
 By Rome's most prudent nobles, that our foes, 
 
 Who burn beneath their late discomfiture, 
 
 Hearing what panic terrifies the mass, 
 
 "Will rush upon our borders. Now, our legions, 
 
 Fill'd with such desperate fury as invests 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 53 
 
 Uncultured minds in great calamity, 
 Call upon Curtius to command their force, 
 And lead them on to battle ; while grave men 
 Trust his known valor, thrice approved in war, 
 And that paternal virtue, which descends 
 Upon the heir of true Nobility. 
 Marcus, I come thy suppliant. A place 
 Beyond thy years, though not thy just deserts, 
 Sues for acceptance. Nay, receive the trust, 
 Nor question of thy fitness ; for thy skill, 
 Quick honor, martial bearing and renown, 
 Shine brightly in all eyes, except thine own. 
 
 lyteria (aside). 
 Is this an Echo ! 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 The great office, sir, 
 Which our too partial citizens assign 
 To one so little tried, demands some fear 
 In its acceptance. I can only think 
 How Jove selects the insubstantial cloud, 
 From which to deal his lightning. 
 
54 LYTERIA : 
 
 PUBLIUS. 
 
 The hope waked 
 By thy appointment, will make strong the arm 
 Of manhood, and reflush the maiden's cheek, 
 That pales at soldier's parting. Yet attend, 
 For by still greater proof, I have to show 
 The confidence thy courage gives our city. 
 Know, I am charged to tender to thy use 
 The antique steel, worn by our greatest chiefs. 
 In Mars' own temple has this armor hung 
 A score of years unbatter'd by the foe. 
 Only Rome's truest sons must gird their limbs 
 For battle, in such steel ; but thou, most prized 
 Of Rome, may'st wear this honor'd mail unchal- 
 leng'd. 
 
 lyteria (aside). 
 A son most prized of Rome ! — Why should these 
 
 words 
 In characters of fire seem writ before me? — 
 Hence, horrible surmise! — for I have still 
 The strength to cast thee from my shrinking soul. 
 Down, ghastly thought, fiend-prompted to my 
 
 breast! 
 Leave me ! — It is my order ! 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 55 
 
 LUCIUS. 
 
 We receive 
 In Marcus' name this token ; since the doubt 
 Of his own claims to this great dignity- 
 Must keep him silent. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Common phrase of thanks 
 Would mock so rich a gift. Say to these friends, 
 That, as I value favor in her sight 
 Whom I shall wed to-morrow, I devote 
 My life to serve the city, and deserve 
 The confidence her children place in me. 
 
 LUCIUS. 
 
 Most happily these fortunes fall to us. 
 Marcus shall take this armor of the priest, 
 Before he clasp his bride ; showing the world 
 His honor is more precious than his love. 
 
 DC3LIUS. 
 
 All thy advancement, Curtius, must reflect 
 Some lustre on those friends whose early care 
 Gave thy hot youth direction. Let their words 
 
56 LYTERIA : 
 
 Still mingle with the witching notes of fame, 
 That trumpet forth thy merit. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 With this pledge, 
 Given to recall thy teachings, they remain 
 "When Time shall wipe all title coveted, 
 And ancient lore from Memory's full page. 
 One word from thee, Lyteria; — that my heart, 
 Satiate with joy, may stifle its own bliss, 
 And so make room for future happiness. 
 Tell me that these great favors Rome bestows, 
 Have brought thee pleasure. 
 
 lyteria (aside). 
 
 Oh ! assist me, Gods ! 
 Lest my calm words, striving with dreadful doubt, 
 Choke in their utterance. 
 
 Marcus, all that brings 
 Thee honor, shall awake my gratitude — 
 Yet in this presence, feeling must be awed, 
 And find few words to dress her thankfulness. 
 
 Let me go in — for a dark faintness steals 
 Over my spirit. Do not fear — It passes — 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 57 
 
 And seems to draw all weakness from the mind, 
 High purpose should inhabit. — Ha ! the cloud 
 Returns; — but now shadows me tenderly. 
 A moment in the cooler court within 
 Will bring relief. Nay, follow not — 'Tis best 
 I am alone. 
 
 TJie Act closes. 
 
58 LYTERIA 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 The Temple of Jupiter — Lyteria discovered, 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 The noblest thing in Rome ! Why are these words 
 Branded upon my spirit? Hath not Rome 
 A medicine to heal the earth's scarr'd breast, 
 Which asks the labor'd ore or burnish'd gem 
 Drawn from itself, and worshipp'd with a zeal 
 Due to the Gods alone! — 
 
 The voice divine 
 Demands a gift, prized in the public eye, 
 More than in his to whom it doth belong. 
 Jove's sacred semblance stands therein confess'd ; 
 Holy to our poor vision ; but to His, 
 To whom 't is dedicate, the grossest atom 
 Of our dark earth shows with an equal lustre. 
 For man's proud work, more meanly mocks His 
 
 Than the poor taper, Phoebus' quick' ning beams. 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 59 
 
 Bending in shame at this familiar altar, 
 
 Let me implore forgiveness for a doubt 
 
 Of Heaven's forbearance. Hence! thou dread 
 
 surmise, 
 That stabb'd my breast deeper than steel could 
 
 reach ! 
 Let me adore the mercy of the Gods, 
 Who show how man may expiate his crimes, 
 Ere they have scorch'd him into nothingness. 
 
 Have I not heard a foot-step ! Aulus comes, 
 To tell the consummation of our hopes! — 
 The sound has ceased ; or lived but to my fancy. 
 Ere this, some token of deliverance 
 Should have been brought me. — 
 
 Ha! These shouts are music ; 
 For they arise from the Great "Warrior's temple, 
 Where (after gifts had satisfied the earth) 
 It was our nobles' purpose to equip 
 My Curtius in his armor, ere he came 
 To give me all himself. What! more applause 
 Lavished on Marcus ! Rome's great heart is his ! 
 My love has proudest sanction. Why does Joy 
 Heap its rich treasures on a life so young, 
 
60 LYTERIA : 
 
 While they whose years of sufferance earn such 
 
 wealth 
 Pass to the grave unheeded ? — 
 
 Yes! at length, 
 My promised messenger returns with tidings. 
 
 (Enter Aulus.) 
 The ransom is accepted ! Rome is saved ! — 
 Stay not for form, — give air unto your news. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Breathe then, before I utter the sad tale 
 That makes my message; for its terror strikes 
 So nearly at the life, that the light air, 
 Which now surrounds thy form, will seem op- 
 
 press'd 
 With poison. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 " Poison ! " — « terror ! " — Words like these 
 But little suit the people's joyful shout, 
 That rings from yonder temple. The kind Gods, 
 Appeased by man's submission, lift their frown 
 From the scorch'd earth ! Our offerings are ac- 
 cepted? 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 61 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Alas ! the treasures pour'd into the gulf 
 Have not fulfill'd the mystic words of fate, 
 Which form'd our Oracle. 
 With princely largess furnish'd by the State, 
 And jewels, Varrus' generous hand supplied, — 
 With treasures spoil'd from palace, and from 
 
 fane, 
 In vain we strove to gorge the gaping earth; — 
 But still, the pit belch'd forth its poison'd vapor. 
 Then, last of all, the Statue, (at whose shrine 
 Tears, vows, and prayers of generations past 
 Melted the Gods to pity,) with great force, 
 Upheaved from its firm base, in the abyss 
 With deaf ning crash descended. Shuddering, 
 With fear the strange profanity we view'd, 
 While Dcelius raised his voice in earnest prayer, 
 Beseeching heaven's grace. But now the earth, 
 Torn by some new convulsion, hurl'd our gifts 
 Back on the trembling plain. Thus are our pains 
 Rejected. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Yet these plaudits that arose 
 But now, seem'd to express some sudden joy. 
 
62 LYTERIA I 
 
 Go seek their meaning. Any passer-by 
 Returning from the neighboring fane of Mars, 
 Can give solution to this mystery. 
 
 [Exit Aulas. 
 My awful fancies clothe themselves in shape, — 
 Collect, and form a substance palpable, 
 That chills me with its shadow. — 'T is a thought : 
 And has not now existence so defined 
 As the first breath that parts an infant's lips ! — 
 Fantastic possibilities of Woe 
 Relieve the heart o'erburthen'd else, and crush'd, 
 Beneath the mighty happiness of Love. — 
 Depart, unnatural monster of my brain; 
 And thou, dread thought, freeze in eternal silence. 
 Come Night, and hold me in thy dark embrace ; 
 Lest this unreal shape look forth at the eye, 
 And palsy Rome with horror ! 
 
 (Re-enter Aulus.) 
 
 Whence arose 
 This sudden clamor ? 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 It was from the square 
 Before the temple, where the crowd bestow 
 The armor upon Curtius : — The great noise 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 63 
 
 Was gratulation at an omen sent ; — 
 For when the priest advanced to take the casque, 
 With which to crown the warrior — a flash 
 Of lightning, darting from a cloud that sail'd 
 Upon the Augurs' left, struck the bright steel, 
 And at the feet of Curtius tore its way 
 Through the unyielding earth : — And thus they 
 
 read it, — 
 " Heaven's own strength shall clothe the arm of 
 
 Marcus, 
 And bring confusion to the foes of Rome." 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Who thus interprets ? 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Dcelius, thy father. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Why, then, no doubt 'tis right: Who is so wise 
 As Dcelius : who so pure — Jove would not 
 
 blind 
 His truest servant ; — still Doubt sways my spirit. 
 Tell me, good Aulus, tell me, may not prayer, 
 
64 LYTERIA I 
 
 Pour'd from thy pious lips, and from my sire's, 
 Compel the heavens to show where safety lies ? 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 In patient waiting on the will divine, 
 
 And still submission, prayer shows meetest now. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 The order is obey'd, even to the letter; — 
 For what has Rome more precious to bestow, 
 Than the divine similitude of Jove ? 
 
 aulus {after a pause). 
 Dost ask that question? — Must I then reject 
 A thought, that as those words fell from thy lips, 
 Seem'd stamp'd by inspiration on my soul? — 
 The cunning labor of man's hand is meet 
 Oblation to be render' d to his fellow ; 
 But to .Creative Essence we should yield 
 What its own might has fashion'd: — Fruit and 
 
 flowers, 
 With blood of guiltless beast, in common times, 
 May pay the service gratitude demands. 
 Yet seasons come, when human lust and pride 
 Blaspheme the patient Gods, till waked to wrath, 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. Q5 
 
 They claim tremendous expiation. — Then, 
 What the soul most clings to, must be given. 
 Something, so dear and precious, that the heart, 
 Torn at its loss, may pour its vital blood, — 
 And haughty Will, slain on a living altar, 
 Pay the sole tribute Heaven will accept. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Cease such mysterious words ; — for tho' I see 
 Not all their meaning, yet I know they wrong 
 The Gods we worship. Priests have slander'd oft 
 The power they feign'd to reverence ! 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Sometime 
 'Tis so; — but now, an instinct tells my soul, 
 That unto thee alone, of all our world, 
 The Gods have shown their pleasure. Do not 
 
 shrink — 
 The secret is most safe, if thy wrought brain 
 Unconsciously has printed it on mine. — 
 The messenger is chosen ; — and my lips 
 Are seal'd to silence : — yet most blind were we 
 Not to perceive man's craft, or nature's wealth, 
 5 
 
66 LYTERIA : 
 
 Cannot elaborate that conscious self — 
 The noblest offering we can render Heaven. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Hold, Aulus! — and beware that fatal pride, 
 Most common to thy order ; — Do not take 
 Thy own crude fancies for decrees of Heaven. 
 Such great presumption, weighing down the 
 
 mind, 
 (Which piety and study else exalt) 
 Poisons its teaching, and gives worldly men 
 Much cause to jeer the ministers of Jove. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Unhappy maiden, whom stern fate elects 
 To bear a grief beyond thy mortal strength, 
 'Tis not for me to blame the desperate hope, 
 That burthens human pride, with the clear beams 
 Of knowledge, shot from heights whence Truth 
 
 may shine 
 "Without distortion. Every path, my child, 
 Hath issue there. The common chance of life 
 Metes out the truth in merciful allotments, 
 As pain's rude buffets make the growing soul 
 Strong to receive it. Yet 'tis sometimes sent 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 67 
 
 In one short struggle, whence the youth may rise 
 To wisdom more sublime, than the hard tasks 
 Conn'd 'neath Time's discipline can bring our 
 Age. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Such rude uplifting Heaven avert from me! 
 With meek submission, rather let me seek 
 To tread the teaching steps of those, whom nature 
 Appoints my guides. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 "When beckon' d to the sky, 
 We may not choose the wings to bear us up. 
 When priests and people read not fate's decree, 
 When earth and sky are blank to asking eyes, 
 There is a gentle voice, that to the soul 
 Interprets Heaven's command. — Does no loved 
 
 name 
 Thrill with an awful whisper to thy soul, 
 While Rome and her sad children, frantic ask 
 Which way salvation comes ? 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Aulus, no more ! — 
 The Powers who show thee their august demand, 
 
68 LYTERIA : 
 
 Would give support through human sympathy, 
 To the great task they urge me to perform : 
 For that I should be thankful; — but Despair, 
 Who holds his lordly session in my breast, 
 Will brook no gentler feeling. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 The stern sense 
 Of hardly purchased Right, exalts us more 
 Than friendly pity, or the world's applause. 
 Remember this : and know that Heaven supports 
 The instrument it chooses. — Some one comes. 
 Commune some lonely moments with thyself, 
 And courage shall be given : for, holy maid, 
 The Gods have chosen well; — thy innocence 
 Is strength celestial; — thou shalt nobly triumph. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Yet, give me prayers — prayers — Aulus, lest I 
 
 faint, — 
 And so fail utterly. 
 
 [Exit Lytcria. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Alas ! not less 
 Rome shall require our prayers, if this young pair 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 69 
 
 ♦ 
 
 Must perish for her sake. 
 
 Strange! that so hard a task should be assign'd 
 To instruments untried ; while those whose lives 
 Have daily worshipp'd Jove are left untested. — 
 How goes the day ? 
 
 (Enter Prothus.) 
 
 PROTHUS. 
 
 The rites before the throng 
 Conclude most happily. The well armed Curtius, 
 Attended by the Consul and our priests, 
 Comes to fulfil his marriage. But the bride — 
 Should she not wait his coming ? 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 She left me 
 Upon thy entrance. "When the time arrives, 
 She will be ready. Have the people all 
 This mien untroubled ? — Is the curse forgot 
 That rests upon them ? 
 
 PROTHUS. 
 
 Yes; the fickle crowd, 
 Drunken with show and noise, laugh in death's 
 clutch, 
 
70 LTTERIA. 
 
 And mock the wrath of Heaven ; yet such ap- 
 plause 
 But little suits with Dcelius' sad face, 
 The grave demeanor of the thinking few, 
 Or the stern frown that clouds the Consul's brow. 
 (Enter Publius.) 
 
 PUBLIUS. 
 
 A new response the Oracle has given, 
 Breathing some hope to Rome. These were the 
 
 words — 
 " The treasure Jove demands shall be reveaVd 
 To the most valued inmate of his temple : " — 
 Thus 'tis most like some priest shall be inspired 
 To signify His will. 
 
 PROTHUS. 
 
 This seems like hope. — 
 Have Dcelius and our nobles heard thy news ? 
 
 PUBLIUS. 
 
 I look'd to find them here. 
 
 PROTHUS. 
 
 They now approach. 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 71 
 
 Come, we will meet them, and announce this 
 message. 
 
 Clouds, that now lift to us, should be dispell' d 
 
 From those whom they oppress with equal sad- 
 ness. 
 
 This is the way — 
 
 PUBLIUS. 
 
 I follow willingly. 
 [Exeunt Prothus and Publius. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 This inward warning was not fancy's trick, 
 But heaven-sent augury. To woman's strength 
 A trial is assigned, that well might task 
 Man's less enduring nature, to a point 
 Beyond its sufferance. Yet can it be 
 That she has trust and courage firm enough, 
 For such supreme devotion ? Will not her lips, 
 Glued by a human weakness, fail to speak 
 The whisper'd words of Heaven? 
 (Re-enter Lyteria.) 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Aulus ! — 
 
72 LYTERIA : 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Returned so soon ! 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 So soon — Dost thou not know 
 Life at some seasons keeps no pace with Time — 
 Hearts may grow cold, and the quick blood of 
 
 youth 
 Lag with Eld's sluggish current through the veins, 
 While the frail insect, born for one short day, 
 Wakes its first poean for the gift of life : — 
 Yes! I have learn'd the message Publius brought : 
 Answer me not — for I have heard, but now, 
 Teachings from tongues, more eloquent than 
 
 thine — 
 If I am proof to these, thy words are wasted. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Yes ! I believe thy counsel comes from Heaven — 
 May it still wait upon thee, and reveal 
 The shrouded love, that deals with man in sor- 
 row; 
 And may thy Faith still point thee to a time, 
 When all that here is doubtful, or obscure, 
 Shall be unriddled. 'Tis the only comfort 
 Vouchsafed to human suffering. 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 73 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Yet who, 
 By wishing, can acquire a trust so strong, 
 That the affections of earth's brightest hours 
 Shall melt before it? Reason cannot give 
 This confidence ; nor comes it from desire 
 To pierce the gloom, and view the mighty Source 
 Whence we proceed, and where our being tends. 
 Such wisdom must be grafted on the heart, 
 When first 'twas waked to life, or gently press'd 
 Upon the soul, by friends who laid aside 
 This mortal form to be more closely with us : — 
 Are the gates op'ning? — Do I hear their hinges 
 Utter a deep wail; — 
 As conscious of the destiny of him 
 Who enters to destruction ! 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Thou'rt not deceived. 
 Our friends already fill the inner court. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Tell them, I am prepared ; leave me an instant. 
 
 [Exit Aulus. 
 
74 LYTERIA : 
 
 Alone, a moment more — before the deed — 
 And then — alone forever : — Mighty Gods, 
 Raise and exalt me to my solemn work ; — 
 Let my weak mind, sway'd by your higher wis- 
 dom, 
 Be moulded to your likeness : let me feel 
 That human love but copies love divine 
 In aiding general weal, through private grief. 
 
 The time has come — His step, cumber'd with 
 
 steel, 
 Strikes heavily the earth, and dissipates 
 All power ! — What price too great to hold him 
 
 here ! — 
 Here! to myself! What interest strong as 
 
 mine ! — 
 Cease, cruel Power, that prompts me to this deed ! 
 Elect some higher agent. I am mortal ! 
 (Enter Dcelius, Lucius, Publius, Curtius, and 
 others.) 
 
 D03LIUS. 
 
 Thy message, Publius, comes most happily. 
 
 We are not all deserted, if the Gods 
 
 Shall deign to speak Rome's comfort by our lips. 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 75 
 
 We wait their inspiration ; while with hearts 
 Lighten'd of half their fear, we join this pair 
 In marriage. Daughter ! thy pale cheek should 
 
 show 
 Some living color : cease to think of Rome 
 For this one hour, when life's great epoch stands 
 Athwart thy path. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Forgetfulness is not 
 In mortal power : and wisely 't is denied ; — 
 For who would not expunge joy's shadow'd trace, 
 So those dark stains that mottle life to all, 
 Might cease to haunt the memory. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Cans't thou 
 Itemember aught save the rich blessings shower'd 
 About our steps ? — the popular applause, — 
 The favor of our worthiest citizens, — 
 This honor'd mail by acclamation given ? — 
 And now, more sweet than all, the rite that seals 
 Thee mine forever, banishes all sense, 
 All feeling, but of rapture ! 
 
76 LYTERIA : 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 As we deck 
 The victims destined to our sacrifice, 
 So fortune sometimes lends us every grace, 
 When the great doom is nearest. Yet think not 
 I would obscure the ruddy light that beams 
 To thy fond hope. — Thus may it ever shine. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Thou must not think the lauding tongues of men, 
 Who may to-morrow strain their throats to hail 
 Some sycophantic knave, have satisfied 
 My selfish craving; 'tis that the high place, 
 Reach'd through their favor gives me power to 
 
 serve 
 The State, our parent, and to pay those dues 
 Ow'd to our race, that have the power above 
 All selfish joy to make us truly bless' d. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 There spoke the noble spirit I have loved. 
 Thou still wilt hold this truth e'en as thy life. — 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Till death shall strike the reason from my brain, 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 77 
 
 And quench the fire of conscience. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Approach the altar where thy father waits ; — 
 After the rite there shall be time for converse. 
 
 DGSLIUS. 
 
 Ye now appear to consecrate your lives 
 
 Each to the other ; — undertaking both 
 
 The holiest, tenderest offices that man 
 
 May render to his fellow. 
 
 But 't is to be remember'd that each word, 
 
 Each inarticulate thought, is register'd 
 
 By witnesses unseen. So will the crime 
 
 Glare to celestial vision, if firm will 
 
 Be wanting to perform all that is promised. 
 
 LUCIUS. 
 
 How say you, Marcus, wilt thou take this maid? 
 Art thou prepared to love and reverence 
 Her woman's sense of justice, and the heart, 
 More prone to sink expedience for the right, 
 Than that which man must carry ? Hast thou 
 
 purpose 
 To listen to her words in hours of trial, — 
 
78 LYTERIA : 
 
 When Heaven lends to those who love us best 
 A truer sense than nature ever gives 
 Our worldly instinct? Say, art thou prepared 
 To make these promises ? 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 The privilege 
 Of taking such blest vows, I count great cause 
 Of gratitude. 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Placing thy hand upon 
 This altar, swear, that thou wilt strive to keep 
 The promises impressed by solemn custom 
 On all united by the marriage tie. — 
 
 Now, daughter, listen what thy duties are : — 
 'Tis thine to cultivate the gentler virtues, 
 Which, drawing man towards the domestic 
 
 hearth, 
 Form his bestguard from ill. Strive to be cheerful. 
 Never disposed to see the passing clouds, 
 That discontent may find in any sky ; 
 But let thy smile supply the suns of fortune, 
 When screen'd by trouble. 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 79 
 
 LUCIUS. 
 
 Likewise be assured, 
 That we possess no joy for private use ; 
 But that mankind should share the gifts of 
 
 Heaven, 
 Whereof the few are chosen almoners. 
 Show no weak love in seeking to detain 
 Thy chief from dangerous honor; for thou 
 
 know'st, 
 That 'tis through private suffering the Gods 
 Heap greatest favors on the multitude. 
 In fine, be open ; utter fearlessly 
 Whatever truth may urge. Obey the prompting 
 Of thy most noble self. So shall thy love 
 Point Curtius to renown. 
 
 DffiLIUS. 
 
 If thou art prepared 
 To take these trusts, call the truth-loving Gods 
 To witness it. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 No trifling invocation 
 Should ask such Presence; — let me give some 
 
 moments 
 To silent prayer, before an act so solemn. 
 
80 LYTERIA . 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Upon this altar gently rest thy hand, — 
 And when prepared, uplift it to the sky ; 
 Praying the Gods, who register thine oath, 
 May give thee strength to keep it. 
 (Enter a Citizen.) 
 
 Ha ! who breaks 
 Our unconcluded service? 
 
 CITIZEN.' 
 
 Pardon, sir; — 
 'Tis not my own desire that interrupts 
 These sacred offices. The crowd without, 
 Stricken with panic by a sudden wind, 
 That bears the noxious vapor from the pit 
 About this temple, thrust me to your presence, 
 To learn if Jove has signified the means 
 Of our deliverance — as we learn'd to hope. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Yes ! — The great inspiration in my breast 
 Burning for utterance, makes its instrument 
 Preeminent in knowledge, as in woe. 
 The heaven-demanded gift no more is veil'd 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 81 
 
 In doubtful language, but each index points 
 Its stubborn finger where redemption lies. 
 
 Father, and you, sir, who deserve that name 
 
 From him who calls me wife, give me support 
 
 In following your counsels. I have sworn, — 
 
 If fate should offer me the bitter choice, — 
 
 To hold the honor of the man I love 
 
 Above all private feeling. Perjury 
 
 To the high Gods ; distrust of him whose choice 
 
 Hath touch'd a life with radiance, should not be 
 
 The primal acts of union. — The demand 
 
 Made by the Oracle I must expound, — 
 
 And crushing nature, raise our prostrate Rome. 
 
 Written on every hand, but strangely dark 
 To our gross vision, the decrees of Jove 
 Break on the soul, pall'd in the wonderment 
 Of its own blindness. " The most precious gift " — 
 Is not the breathing consciousness we hold 
 As Heaven's choicest blessing, — Is not this, — 
 A tribute worthier to appease its Source 
 Than Labor's produce? What is ' prized of 
 Rome ? ' 
 6 
 
82 
 
 LYTERIA : 
 
 Have ye not heard the very pavement shout 
 As Curtius trode the street? — Do ye not give 
 The armor that he bears, — and in the ligh firing 
 Foresee his coming fame ? — Must /repeat 
 A name all Rome has clamor' d ! — 
 
 Marcus Curtius, 
 I, that should crown this day with Love's best 
 
 gift, 
 Now point the way to death. Glory has shone 
 About thy brief career ; — no step of thine 
 But left its trace of radiance ; — Thou alone, 
 By modesty prevented as a shield, 
 Hast walk'd unconscious : — I, in shade apart, 
 Have seen the open Heavens beckon thee, — 
 While Earth yearns for the last embrace of him, 
 Whose place above is won. 
 
 Now ! with one voice, 
 Ye Romans, shout your safety; for I crave 
 The poor approval custom gives brave deeds! — 
 Yet first! break silence thou! of whose support 
 It would be sin to doubt — Marcus, come hither! 
 Fold me to thy heart — say, I have done well ! — 
 Or else thy silence, drowns the thousand tongues 
 That urged me to the deed ! — 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 83 
 
 No word ! — No breath ! — 
 st thou repel me, and these friends stand fix'd 
 As statues to behold it! — Fool! to think 
 The cunning Gods had yet no pang reserved ! — 
 I had not look'd for this ! 
 
 {She falls upon the pavement.) 
 
 The Act closes 
 
S4 LYTERIA : 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 A grove near the Temple. Publius and Aulus 
 discovered. 
 
 PUBLICS. 
 
 The hidden meaning of the Oracle 
 
 Was shown to thee, before those awful words 
 
 Discovered it to Rome ? 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 The strife that rent 
 Lyteria's soul, was figured in the mien, 
 She could not all control. This show'd me first 
 Where pointed Jove's requirement. But such 
 
 strength 
 I hardly deem'd could rule in woman's breast. 
 
 PUBLIUS. 
 
 Capacity to serve its high behest, 
 
 Heaven measures not as we. Hath she put off 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 85 
 
 The veil Oblivion lent, to wrap her nature 
 From Sorrow's chilling touch ? 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 She wakes to life : 
 Her spirit now informs the quicken'd flesh 
 With suffering; yet no complaint is breath'd ; — 
 No tear relieves the anguish of the soul; 
 But calmness, not of earth, lights her clear brow, 
 As if the heart nourish'd a grief too great, 
 To show such sign as common trouble writes 
 Upon the visage. Publius, you have watch'd 
 The rip'ning strength of Curtius ; can he tread 
 This short rough path to glory 1 
 
 PUBLIUS. 
 
 Who can judge, 
 From any past experience of the power 
 To meet such fearful trial ! He was brave, 
 Noble and generous, when Rome claim'd less 
 His aid, — but in the present case — 'tis Jove 
 Who knows the issue. Still, he walks this grove 
 With the quick stride that bore him from our 
 sight, 
 
86 LYTERIA : 
 
 After the broken rite. His face seems stamp'd 
 With the hard lines of age ; his eye as fix'd 
 As the blank orb that fails to light the stone, 
 Which else would breathe as we. No word he 
 
 speaks, 
 But motions from his side all who approach 
 With words of courage or of sympathy : — 
 This have I heard, and now, compell'd thereto 
 By those who love him most, I come to try 
 If he will waste some speech upon a friend, 
 He ever claim'd to value. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 See — he comes : 
 
 Such meetings ask no witness : I shall wait 
 
 With others in the temple ; — doubting much 
 
 If human strength can bear the awful end 
 
 Fate thrusts upon him. 
 
 [Exit Aulus. 
 (Enter Cur tins.) 
 
 PUBLIUS. 
 
 I would greet thee, Marcus : 
 Do not withdraw thy hand from him, whose lips 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 87 
 
 Should not repeat the proofs of early love, 
 That well may claim the privilege to soothe 
 The troubles of thy heart, with sympathy. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 No pity, Publius, — 't is but empty breath — 
 No prompting — and no counsel — If my soul, 
 Crush'd with its fetters, has not strength to break 
 The heavy chain, that fate has cast about me — 
 I must be ever bound — Nay, friend, no words — 
 I best may bear my misery, — alone. 
 
 PUBLIUS. 
 
 Oh, not alone! for mortal grief unshared 
 Hath keenest touch. If not to me, to friends 
 Of better worth, relieve thy burthen'd heart: — 
 To summon such, I gladly yield my claim. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Well, thou art right : — The truest friend to man 
 Should be the wife, he chose from all the world. 
 Send then Lyteria. Say, that I have ask'd 
 A little speech with her : — This should suffice. 
 
88 LYTERIA : 
 
 PUBLIUS. 
 
 Most gladly is the office I would take 
 Left to her lips, new-hallow'd by the touch 
 Of messages celestial, — not alone 
 Chosen to speak Heaven's judgment, but inform'd 
 With the deep consolation love may shed 
 Upon the mighty mysteries, which at times 
 Press our cramp'd sense, until the ignorant mind, 
 Sick'ning in blindness, wastes within its cell, 
 Consum'd by its own hunger. She shall come 
 To share thy grief, — if not to soften it. 
 
 [Exit Publius. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Here let me wait her coming; — that the breeze, 
 Caressing fitfully this glowing cheek, 
 May cool the fever'd tide, that burns its passage. 
 Let me forget what hopes the morning knew, 
 And only feel this present wretchedness. 
 Away, ye burning thoughts, that riot thus 
 Through the hot brain ; like fiends who clothe 
 
 themselves 
 With living flesh, to play their ghastly antics ! 
 She will not come ; she cannot face the husband, 
 Doom'd by her lips, ere press'd with the first kiss 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 89 
 
 Of wedded passion. Better keep the darkness 
 She has embraced, than in the light of Heaven, 
 To gaze upon the wreck of him, who seem'd 
 Her dearest part of life. I have known those, 
 Who scoffed at woman's feeling, boasting loud, 
 That any specious flattery could win 
 Her word-creating love. I little thought 
 To blazon forth the truth of such coarse jests, — 
 Urged to destruction by a syren voice, 
 Whose music stole away all manly power 
 To snare the victim surely. She is here! 
 Unless the form, oft mirror'd in the eye, 
 Still lingers to deceive. Strange to believe 
 The dull reflection could survive the love 
 That warm'd it into being. 
 
 (Enter Lyteria.) 
 
 Dost thou dare 
 To visit me? — to answer thus my bidding? 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Yes ! at thy will ; which when it speaks command, 
 
 It is not less my duty to obey, 
 
 Than when constraint by love, I could not 
 
 choose 
 But answer its behest, unbreath'd in words. 
 
90 LYTERIA : 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 The service will be brief, prompted by love 
 
 Or duty. Time has been, I should have deem'd 
 
 The longest life just nature could bestow, 
 
 As guerdon to the few who keep her laws, 
 
 A span too short to measure half the love 
 
 I yearn'd to pour upon thee. When I craved 
 
 Advancement, 'twas thy fame that dazzled most. 
 
 When offer'd place and honor, — when the throng 
 
 Threw their unpurchased praises at my feet, 
 
 My boyish fancy picturing the while 
 
 A greater fame to follow, — 'twas thy smile 
 
 That lit ambition's boundless sky, — thy love, 
 
 That seem'd the only prize worthy to bless 
 
 A life of struggle. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Have / suffer'd nothing ? 
 Has not full measure of all earthly ill 
 Been meted to my portion ? — Crush'd at last 
 By thy distrust in that dark hour, when doubt 
 From thee, struck deeper than the angry shafts 
 That Fate aim'd at my bosom. 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 91 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Cans't thou speak 
 Of petty trial, when the soul of him, 
 Whom thou hast claim'd to value as thyself, 
 Waits on the bank of ruin? — while alas! 
 The Sense is unillum'd, and reason's lamp, 
 Given to guide man's instinct, sheds no ray 
 On Heaven's dark dealings! 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 But that reason warns, 
 That man should not confine celestial wisdom 
 To narrow bounds where he may read its purpose. 
 Marcus! this thought upheld me ; — or ere this 
 My grief had conquer'd life. When first I bow'd 
 In anguish to the earth, striving to stay 
 The utterance, that Influence more strong 
 Than human will claim'd from my lips, I breathed 
 An atmosphere of fire. The ground was moved 
 Beneath me, while the sun his solemn progress 
 Quitted, and seem'd to reel along his course. 
 The mighty presence of that misery 
 Swell'd through this frame, and soon had thrust 
 my soul 
 
92 LYTERIA : 
 
 Forth from its prison to the genial air, 
 
 Had not fresh fetters, forged by Jove's own hand, 
 
 Bound it anew to earth; yet raised by aids 
 
 Unseen, and in unnatural ecstasy 
 
 Borne'on, I wrought the will divine. And this 
 
 Support, impressed upon my soul, charm'd doubt 
 
 And mortal weakness. Man is not allow'd 
 
 To fathom the great mysteries of Jove, 
 
 Nor weigh eternal justice, which regards 
 
 With equal survey the whole race of man, 
 
 And wills the general welfare : — Nor alone 
 
 For mortal interest that Care consults, 
 
 But with its blessing vision, still enfolds 
 
 The countless beings bearing human form, 
 
 Fashion'd from deathless fabric, which of old 
 
 Commun'd with mortals ; and again may hold 
 
 Such sacred intercourse, when later days 
 
 Shall find our race redeem'd through sufferance 
 
 To that pure state, when voices that now call 
 
 Us to the skies, shall be as plainly heard 
 
 As these poor words, wherein I speak of them 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Has man no right to question the decree, 
 
 That claims the greatest proof our faith can offer? 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 93 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 No! not the greatest; — for although the world 
 Counts every pang that strikes the human breast 
 In service so conspicuous, and lauds 
 (As it is meet it should) the champion doom'd 
 In one great act to yield all men most prize — 
 Yet stronger trust must nourish the long lives 
 Of those, who, in obscurity and toil, 
 Receive a poison with each vital draught, 
 Which still supplies the wasting heart of Want 
 With energy to suffer; — Thou hast been 
 Most blest in golden opportunity 
 To show the virtue glowing in thy breast — 
 But think of him, who feels, (it may be,) longing 
 Strong as thine own for honorable service, 
 Whose genius claims a place no less exalted, 
 Than that where thou hast stood; — yet, bound 
 
 by fate 
 To poverty, — or chained, with fetters forged 
 By sin ancestral, to some feeble frame, 
 That may not act the mandate of the will, — 
 Supports through life a spirit vainly striving 
 With destiny no mortal strength can master. 
 I have mark'd men, unpitied and unknown, 
 Battling, 'gainst hope, with stern adversity ; — 
 
94 LYTERIA : 
 
 And they have taught me, that to leave the heat 
 Of our press'd being, drunk with the applause 
 Of generations, present and to come, 
 Asks not so great a trust in Heaven's love, 
 As to endure that being, stripp'd of all 
 That makes our bondage pleasant. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 The soul, fill'd 
 With its own misery, pictures as fair 
 All other forms in which Woe stalks the earth ; 
 And life, with all its agonies, is still 
 So precious, that we fondly cling to gross 
 And sensual nature, where old Use so ties 
 The wonted spirit, that it shrinks to leap 
 Into the unknown future. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 'Tis well said. 
 There is a chilling coolness in the grave 
 Which we must fear, even when life's fever burns 
 Most potently within us: Some rude jar 
 Must shake us all, when earth's last tie is broke. 
 And most they feel, who, pushed by Age, or 
 whipp'd 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 95 
 
 By licensed vice, are hurried to their doom; — 
 But to the agent Jove selects to free 
 His city from destruction — the great night 
 Of breathing nature shall be lit with fires, 
 Kindled by love in every beating heart, 
 That thrills with its deliverance. A fame, 
 The highest man can covet, shall be thine. 
 So long as Rome's great founder shall be borne 
 On time's enduring stream, — so long as children 
 Learn the great justice that stern father dealt 
 To those whom he had cherish'd, thy brave name 
 Shall shine conspicuous. No age can dim 
 The lustre of such noble sacrifice. 
 When chiefs of present fame, and bards who sing 
 Their praises, shall exist but in the earth, 
 From whose full breast new tribes shall draw 
 
 support, 
 Thou still shalt live — immortal as the Right, 
 Which beckon'd thee to Glory! 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 His blood flows 
 Less warmly than doth mine, who could resist 
 Such utterance. Lyteria — wife — forgive 
 The lack of strength, that bred the sin of curs'd 
 
96 
 
 LYTERIA : 
 
 Suspicion. Thou art true — true — and most 
 faithful. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Speak not of that — but tell me, I am stamp'd 
 Once more with love's warm signet on thy heart* 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 I blush that thou shouldst ask. A selfish churl 
 For some time wore the semblance men call 
 
 Curtius. 
 Now the true owner rules. I hear, through thee, 
 The voice of inspiration, and obey 
 Its awful mandate. — Yet how strange to choose 
 One tied to earth thus strongly ! Why take hearts 
 Beating so quick to life's fresh harmonies, 
 While thousands, bending beneath age and care, 
 Pray for the end, unanswer'd. To leave thee, 
 When first I rightly know thine excellence, — 
 Oh 't is a fate too hard ! No, — I blench not, — • 
 Yet some complaint must struggle to the air, 
 When the celestial fountain of such love 
 Is rudely turn'd forever from his path, 
 It leaped from earth to gladden, and to bless. 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 97 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Forever? No! 'T were then a cruelty 
 Beyond all sufferance. Are we not taught, 
 By instinct strong as that which prompts the bee 
 To hive the summer sweets, that our advance 
 By every unchecked impulse to the Truth, 
 We must possess hereafter? Each sad step, 
 By which we slowly climb to those far heights 
 Of purity and love, where man shall stand 
 In future more remote than human thought 
 Can pierce, shall bless us through time's endless 
 
 path 
 That all earth's sons must traverse. 
 Think, what great works man's energy hath 
 
 wrought, 
 In this, his primal state; — the mighty tombs, 
 Egyptian labor rear'd to tell the world 
 Their builders are forgot, — and every form 
 Of strength or beauty, fashion'd from the earth, 
 Must teach, if rightly studied, man's strong will 
 Shall finally disperse all mists that hang 
 Before that perfect calm of happiness, 
 Whereto he was created from the first. 
 7 
 
98 LYTERIA : 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 In woman, unto whom the Gods allot 
 Their gravest discipline, they plant a faith 
 To bear in patience, life's long chastisement; — 
 But when man's rarer troubles threaten peace, 
 His soul, unanchor'd, floats from grief to grief, 
 Craving a stay denied. Yet to perceive 
 Such trust, in one elected to a task 
 Perform'd so nobly, strikes some kindred spark 
 In every witness. 
 
 See ! thy father comes, 
 To learn the true fulfilment of thy pledge. 
 I gladly welcome him. 
 
 {Enter Dcelius.) 
 
 Do not recall 
 Past weakness : Let the word die on thy lip 
 Unutter'd. Self returns. — 
 The name, bequeath'd in honor, still is borne 
 By him who knows its value. Praise not me, 
 But give your thanks to her, who merits them — 
 Does Lucius wait within the Temple still? 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Rome's gravest nobles linger in our courts, 
 And he among them. 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 99 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Does their cooler sense 
 Receive for truth, the new interpretation 
 Of the dark words given by the Oracle ? 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Reason, more strong than will, compels all Rome 
 To marvel at her dullness ; slow to hear 
 What e'en mute nature utter'd. She receives 
 This rendering of the mystic words of fate ; — 
 We must accept what Heaven clearly speaks. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 And I accept it also. I delay 
 Too long already, — Bring me quickly then, 
 To the dark entrance of that fane, whose altar 
 Hungers to snatch its victim. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Oh, not yet! 
 Some hours are left us. For yon setting sun 
 Ceases to draw the vapors from the pit, 
 That strike at life so surely. Not until 
 His smile relights the earth, will Plague's foul 
 
 breath 
 Taint this pure ether. 
 
100 LYTERIA : 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Daughter, thou say'st well. 
 Some hours are left to spend in that sad parting, 
 The city claims from this, her noblest son. 
 Freighted with sacrifice and earnest prayer, 
 This night shall leave our Temple, where all 
 
 ranks 
 •Collected, shall have poured their thanks to 
 
 Heaven, 
 Who gives not man a destiny so grand, 
 Without the strength to bear it. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Yes — the strength — 
 It will be — has been — given. And yet to wait, 
 When every nerve is tense — To gaze at death 
 'Through fever'd hours, that creep so slow to 
 
 watchers — 
 Well, I can bear this also. — Dcelius, 
 This memory still enfolds thy teaching past, — 
 Yet, for an instant, leave the austere speech, 
 In which your order cloak each throb of passion, 
 Let me but feel one breath of human pity ; — 
 One whispered word — not spoke in doubt — but 
 
 wonder, 
 At the quick sacrifice your Gods command. 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 101 
 
 'Twill break the cloud, which keeps the sympathy 
 Bred in thy heart, from giving life to mine. 
 
 DOSLIUS. 
 
 If these rough cheeks are yet untraced by tears, — 
 If the voice holds its wonted cadencies, — 
 It is because the heart disdains to give 
 A grief so great, such impotent expression. 
 And, partly, that the Power, who leaves old Age 
 Exposed to shocks that conquer younger hearts, 
 But rarely calls our tears to answer them. 
 Still, be assured, that would Jove take my life, 
 And let my child, and him who sways her breast 
 Cling to the Earth, whose perfumes infinite 
 Pass, unabsorb'd, these withered avenues, 
 That once admitted all the joys of sense, 
 To feed the ravished soul, — I should await 
 The end with gratitude. Yet even Youth, 
 And the fresh love that crowns its sparkling cup, 
 May find some comfort in the dreaded change, 
 That ever threatens us. Bethink ye both, — 
 No cold satiety, which mars our best 
 Affections, can intrude 'twixt us, and those 
 Departed. They possess our holiest moments. 
 Our spirits rise in such august communion 
 
102 LYTERIA : 
 
 As the pure-hearted hold with beings loved ; — 
 The friend of youth torn early from the earth 
 Departs in festal garments. He shall not 
 Support the shrivell'd livery of Age, 
 "Which cloaks the fairest forms that linger here 
 Till night compels repose. No cloud is sent 
 That does not hide some blessing. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 The soul, wrapt 
 In her despair, rejects all human comfort! 
 Divorced from Earth ! Who can resign the form 
 Through which we hold our treasure, and yet feel 
 A claim to it survives ? But man can quell 
 Such doubting : — and I do it ; — For the Will, 
 Which conquers gates of brass and battlements, 
 That melt Time's clutch to love's caress, should 
 
 sway 
 The subject mind. I only know the city 
 Demands my life — I feel the privilege 
 Of such high service. To the Temple, then, 
 There to announce my purpose, and begin 
 The solemn service, fit for the last night 
 Of Rome's distress. But, dearest, come not 
 
 thou ; — 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 103 
 
 I must not see thee, standing pale and fair, 
 Amid the throng, who only should behold 
 Such sternness as becomes their chosen chief. 
 Thy spirit, love, is weary, though undaunted ; 
 Seek quiet, and if rest cannot approach, 
 Strength shall be given through stillness; — 
 When dawn shall tint the east, we meet once 
 
 more. 
 Farewell — thy prayer — thy love — shall nerve 
 
 my heart — 
 I will believe no parting is forever. 
 
 [Exeunt Daslius and Cur tins, 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Yes ! — we have parted : — Now the stifled sob 
 May join the dirge, that though these wind-swept 
 
 pines, 
 Bewails the perish'd day ; — Why flow these tears 
 Denied in greater need ? Is he not true 
 Even as love imag'd him? Yes! I have gain'd 
 All — all — the Gods commanded ! 
 
 The brave chief, 
 Fighting to save his country, little wrecks 
 The wound where life fasts ebbs. And thus to 
 
 me, 
 
104 LYTERIA : 
 
 Feeling was sunk in action, — but that o'er, 
 The buried shaft wakes the dull'd sense to torture. 
 " No parting is forever ! " But the change 
 Wrought in our higher state, — that is my dread. 
 Will he not there exceed all earthly progress, 
 And so be far removed from all /feel, 
 When called to join him ? I ask not a purer, 
 A nobler soul, than here possesses Marcus, — 
 But for himself, unstripp'd of e'en the faults, 
 That hang about him, and endear to one 
 Conscious of kindred weakness. 
 
 Yet such thoughts 
 But little fit the delegate of Jove, 
 Whom Heaven itself shall succor. Men will speak 
 My constancy ; and praise a sacrifice 
 So dead'ning. Praise of men ! — Why do I try 
 Such empty comfort? In those burning hours, 
 When first my love was answer'd, — how despised 
 The censure or the praise of all save him ! 
 Oh cruel fate ! — to grant such thrilling joy, 
 As youth's quick fancy hardly dared to dream, 
 And then to tear it from the quivering heart 
 Fed by its presence ! — I may save him yet, 
 By hurrying to the Temple to deny 
 The awful inspiration! — 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 105 
 
 And, with some frantic gesture, or rude cry, 
 Shout to the crowd, that not the voice divine, 
 But madness spoke this last demand of Jove! — 
 Could wasting fasts, or heaven-wearying prayer 
 Gain pardon for such sin ? No — crime like this, 
 Mocking all expiation, still would dog 
 Our flying steps — itself, a great avenger. 
 
 Ye helping beings, whom, unseen, I feel 
 
 In the soft breath of evening, gently bear me 
 
 Through the dark path I travel. Till the last, 
 
 May every selfish feeling be subdued 
 
 To his support and comfort. And oh Thou! 
 
 Whose ways we know so little, yet whose love 
 
 We feel, but cannot fathom — save thy child 
 
 In this first night of wedlock, — and the last! 
 
 End of Act IV. 
 
106 LYTERIA : 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 The Forum — The Gulf is seen at the back — 
 
 A broken Altar on the right. 
 
 Time — before sunrise. 
 
 Prothus and Aulus discovered. 
 
 PROTHUS. 
 
 What mockery ! To wreathe with flowers the 
 
 shrine, 
 Shiver'd by Him for whom its victims bled. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Nay, from the altar touch'd by Jove's great 
 
 wrath, 
 When first it shook the earth, thanks for the 
 
 grace 
 That now redeems our lives, may well ascend. 
 Place here the fruit; — this fallen bud must join 
 Its blooming sister; — so — all things are done, 
 As Dcclius commanded: — 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 107 
 
 Does no sign 
 
 Of morning tint the east? 
 
 PROTHUS. 
 
 Yes, a faint gray, 
 The herald of the dawn, struggles with darkness. 
 The moon grows paler! It should near the time 
 When our sad priests lead Curtius to the place, 
 His deed shall consecrate. The noisome mists, 
 Now harmless, weigh'd to earth, rise with the sun, 
 And shut from Rome his daily benediction. — 
 Then, must the gift be offer'd. Will the bride 
 Witness the sacrifice ? 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 While Curtius treads 
 The bitter remnant of his glorious path, 
 She will be with him ; — even to the gulf 
 Where she must pour her being. None can tell, 
 If Fate, that forfeits her best life to Home, 
 Will grant a poor remainder, and permit 
 The widowed heart to waste through years of 
 
 silence, 
 Or lavish (prodigal in sacrifice) 
 A gift unask'd by Heaven. 
 
108 LYTERIA: 
 
 P ROTH US. 
 
 Well hast thou read 
 Her purpose. — She is here — What deadly calm 
 Lives in her marble brow! Such trust is not 
 Of earth's philosophies ; it is His gift, 
 Who calls the soul to trial. Mark her eyes; 
 They seem to gaze where Cynthia's light aids not 
 Their delicate function. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 She is still upheld 
 By an unearthly presence, which exalts 
 Nature to bear its agonies with patience. 
 
 (Enter Lyteria.) 
 Daughter, we would say, welcome — but the word 
 Melts into air unutter'd ; for thy approach, 
 More than the blushing east, tells of the day 
 Rome dreads — yet longs to know. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Dismiss all greeting : 
 In sacred silence, rather, mark with me, 
 How Heaven's vast machinery, unsway'd 
 By mortal grief, hymns its august contriver! 
 Its majesty of motion is not urged 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 109 
 
 By the sharp cry wrung from the drowning 
 
 wretch, 
 Who gasps for day to clutch the plank of safety ; 
 Nor can those, dreading light, that brings them 
 
 darkness, 
 Stay, for a single instant, Phoebus' wheels 
 In their appointed course. Yet we, who feel 
 What great necessity rules nature's force, 
 Must know a peace sublime, and ev'ry heart 
 Should tame its pulses to that solemn beat, 
 Which strikes the measure in the constant march 
 Of universal order. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Thy brave words 
 Declare the night has wrought a holy comfort. 
 Earth's baffled hopes and disappointed loves 
 Are our best teachers. They exalt the soul, 
 (So we receive them rightly,) and refine 
 Our grosser passion to such pure desire, 
 As, shrinks from sense, to know its best fulfilment. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 How many sleepers, plagued by fever'd dreams, 
 
110 LYTER1A : 
 
 Have been the sport of fancies black as mine ; 
 Yet soon the sun, waking our world to gladness, 
 Dispels these visions; so a day shall come, 
 In whose pure brightness mine must all dissolve, 
 And I shall know their meaning. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Thy soul is borne 
 Above the woes of sense. May nothing call 
 It earthward, to resume its painful vesture ! 
 
 PROTHUS. 
 
 The air teems solemn music, such as waits 
 Our greatest captains to their monuments. 
 A throng of eager life, in confused mass, 
 Crowds to this place. The ancient steel, so long 
 Unused, gleams at the front. Rome's noblest son 
 Supports it ! 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Yes! 'Tis true. Leave me not, Aulus — 
 A chill steals through me — Night's dank dew 
 Strikes on rny cheek ; or is 't fear's icy drops 
 That chill me ! Help me now, ye ministers 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. Ill 
 
 Of strength, whom I believe are near! An hour 
 
 gone — 
 There's nothing left to pray for — 
 {Enter Cartius, Lucius, and Dcelius, followed by 
 priests, nobles, and a crowd of citizens) 
 
 LUCIUS. 
 
 Marcus, thy hand ; 
 I could not clasp it with a greater pride, 
 If redden'd by the blood of every foe 
 Who doubts our Roman valor. Had thy sire 
 Lived to behold this deed, paling those feats 
 Which wreath'd thy boyish brow with leaves of 
 
 oak, — 
 He would have wept, even as I do now, 
 With joy to bless the nobleness he father' d. 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Though faintly sounds the weak applause of 
 
 men, 
 To that approving voice within the soul, 
 Whose praise out-tongues all flattery, — yet 
 
 must itome 
 Show sign of gratitude ; — lauding herself 
 In her most valued son. Thou art blest, Marcus — 
 
112 LYTERIA : 
 
 Blest in each breath our people safely draw. — 
 Give grateful echo with your voices, friends, 
 To what I poorly speak in your behalf. 
 (Great Shouting.) 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Your favor is most welcome ; yet let it speak 
 Only in whisper'd prayer, for strength to leave 
 All I have cherish'd here, to Rome's protection. 
 Give me such heavy moments as remain, 
 To breathe some words of parting to the heart, 
 That first declared the ransom heaven ordained. 
 
 Once more let me regard thee. — Nay — expose 
 Thy features to the placid light that smooths 
 Time's furrows, or the deeper lines of grief. 
 I would impress thee in my memory ; 
 So when the sense, which feeds upon thee here, 
 Be press'd 'neath death's cold signet, (as it shall,) 
 A kind remembrance may restore thy form, 
 As now 't is pictured, and to my waked soul 
 Temper the strangeness of futurity. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 The flowers that spring to bless our earthly walk, 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 113 
 
 Breathe their rich odors through Night's thickest 
 
 veil — 
 Then, never doubt the spirit hath a sense 
 To hold what once it loved ; although the cheek 
 That glow'd affection's answer, wastes in death 
 Or pales through weary years of solitude. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Yes ; as the soul draws near enfranchisement, 
 
 Truth is reveal'd that life's thick fancies screen'd. 
 
 No longer rack'd by superstitious fear, 
 
 I feel a calmness as the stroke descends, 
 
 To sever earth's strong tie ; — inspired to know 
 
 That Love may warm the icy stream of death 
 
 And fill the timorous heart with trustfulness. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 'T is not unlike that as we leave this clay, 
 Whose aches and mortal need have sometimes 
 
 turn'd 
 Man's love to fretful doubt, we shall divest 
 The soul from all the grossness which prevents 
 That perfect union — the young dream of love — 
 Earth was not meant to realize. Our brave deeds 
 Shall there attest passion's exalting power, 
 8 
 
114 LYTEBIA : 
 
 Which here is often wreck'd on honied speech, 
 That tells our love — not, lives it. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Yet Rome knows 
 ' T was no inglorious life I purposed here, 
 Draining existence from the unpaid earth : 
 Each day would have recorded some new act, 
 That thou had'st hail'd exulting. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 'T was well plann'd. — 
 Such life must be eternity's best prelude. — 
 Yet, deem not the great purposes unwrought, 
 In this our primal state, fail of their fruitage. 
 Think rather, each desire shall know fulfilment, 
 When, in its own dim twilight, melts the earth, 
 And the bright flash that shows the Thunderer's 
 
 face 
 Shall display work of greater nobleness, 
 Than by the shrouded light that guides us here, 
 Our sense can look on. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 Words of hope suit well 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 115 
 
 The breaking day, which lends a radiance 
 To plainest robes borne on the breast of nature. 
 The bird's sweet matin rings so full of life, 
 That man must learn contentment in those notes, 
 Which charm to sleep each doubting thought of 
 
 death, 
 With heaven's persuasion. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 The young dawn 
 Gives freshness to the earth with such large 
 
 bounty, 
 That all must drink some portion of the trust 
 Which fills with calmness the unreasoning world ; 
 Yet as the east warms to its coming lord, 
 I feel it draws such color from my cheek, 
 As the stern night has left. But do not heed 
 This paleness ; for the blood, leaving the face, 
 Flies warmly to the heart, giving it strength 
 To suffer. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 'Gainst my will, I must announce 
 The moment of thy glory. — Clearest stars 
 Dissolve themselves in light, and the foul breath 
 
116 LYTERIA I 
 
 Of Earth, hungry for havoc, soon will rise. 
 The Consul, and the Father of thy wife, 
 Wait at the altar ready to pronounce 
 Rome's last farewell and blessing. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 I am prepared 
 To meet them, though the sun yet faintly shows 
 His coming. 
 
 Ye grave men, whom I have ever 
 Reverenced, and who show, through the forced 
 
 sternness 
 "Which holds the face from imaging the heart, 
 That human fondness cannot all be quench'd 
 Even when Heaven wills it ; — Briefly speak 
 The words of parting; — or still better, clasp 
 This hand in silence — 't is our best farewell. 
 
 DOELIUS. 
 
 Silence may well be ours, — since Time's deep 
 
 voice, 
 Which ever speaks with truth's grand emphasis, 
 Shall, in its mighty chorus, swell thy name 
 Down through the list'ning ages. Noble men 
 Shall deem their honor surest, when like thee, 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 117 
 
 They yield themselves an offering for their race. 
 And not alone the sacrifice of life 
 Shall give this glory. — He who strives to cleanse 
 The time from popular error, — He who speaks 
 Against some blighting wrong which men delight 
 To cherish, — these brave souls, — scoff 'd and 
 
 despis'd 
 By those for whom they labor, — shall receive 
 Thy name as highest praise, when other times 
 Shall hail their sacrifice, as Rome hails thine. 
 
 CURTIU&. 
 
 If in your memory my name shall live, 
 Let it be join'd with hers who nobly spoke 
 The words of heaven, and urged me to fulfil them. 
 If she had blenched, — I had not stood here now. 
 
 LUCIUS. 
 
 Woman's brave deeds are never recompensed 
 From the world's mint of homage. She receives 
 Only the praise (too oft but faintly spoke) 
 Of him she leads to honor ; for her sphere 
 Is far removed from the red field of Life, 
 Where Man is form'd to combat. They are few 
 
118 LYTERIA : 
 
 Who read in Fame's bright chronicle of worth, 
 
 Unwritten praise of that devoted friend 
 
 Who smooth'd the path of duty. Yet tho' the 
 
 world 
 To greatest action still denies applause, , 
 We, who have known Lyteria, must proclaim 
 Such nobleness the richest legacy 
 Our champion leaves the city he has saved. 
 
 DGELIUS. 
 
 See, yonder threat'ning cloud is edged with fire, 
 Showing the sign of promise, — while it tells 
 The time has come for parting. 
 
 CURTIUS. 
 
 I accept 
 The omen. — Ye tried friends, adieu. — Adieu, 
 Fair city, for whose sake I had been proud 
 To live. And thou — no — no — a last farewell 
 Shall never pass between us. — We shall meet — 
 And for no separation: — Whence this thrills 
 Through all my lighten'd being is unknown ; 
 But as our sense closes to sounds of Earth, 
 Voices divine strike inward : 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 119 
 
 Now the mist 
 Steals upward. The dark shroud awaits a tenant ; 
 I wrap myself in its malignant folds — 
 The latest victim it shall snatch from Rome ! 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Nay, but an instant; — One last look of love — 
 No ! I will stay thee not. Phoebus is yet' 
 Concealed — Yon ruddy beam, that faintly tints 
 The cloud, shoots not from his bright chariot! — 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 Hold him not, daughter, whom the Heavens call. 
 Thou hast been brave ; let not our mortal fear 
 Seize on thee now, to dim the former trust, 
 Which sheds a lustre on the sacred act, 
 That shall redeem us from the wrath divine. 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 Yes ! I am well reminded — Curtius — go — 
 Nay — I will lead thee to the embrace of fame, 
 Which woos thee to herself. Look not on me — 
 A worthier mistress claims Rome's noblest son j 
 Yes — I am happy — Do not say farewell — 
 But — Marcus — leap to glory ! 
 
120 LTTERIA : 
 
 (As the sun rises, Curtius plunges into the 
 gulf, which closes upon him. Lyteria remains 
 motionless for some moments, and then falls upon 
 the earth.) 
 
 lucius". 
 
 Jove receives 
 Our offering. — The city lives again, — 
 And not too dearly are the Gods appeas'd. 
 "While from this altar thanks are render'd Heaven, 
 Let every ransom'd bosom echo them. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 Pray you, regard Lyteria ; see, she falls — 
 The poison'd shaft, unspent, has struck her life. 
 
 PROTHUS. 
 
 Nay, 'tis but faintness, she will breathe again — 
 For sorrow, ever impotent in death, 
 Still moulds the face. 
 
 AULUS. 
 
 I fear the final sigh 
 Has parted those white lips. — Who would 
 recall her! 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 121 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 I — I must claim her being. Dearest child, 
 Sole comforter and solace of my age, 
 Leave me not thus — A little longer bless 
 This fainting soul. Give not such bitter end 
 To the spent life, which deadens at thy absence. — 
 Ye Gods, whom I have worshipp'd — spare me 
 this! 
 
 LUCIUS. 
 
 Be patient, Doelius : Still she seems to breathe, — 
 She will be spared to thee. See, this bright blade, 
 Held to her lips, is tarnish' d. 
 
 DCELIUS. 
 
 No, 'tis dull'd 
 But by the hand that clasp'd it. She is gone ! 
 
 Creator Jove, by whose command the fibres 
 Of this worn heart enclosed another being, 
 Pardon the prayer o'erburthen'd nature spoke ! 
 Be dumb, thou mighty grief! — lest the still air 
 Repeat my cry to the escaping soul, 
 And call it back to suffer. Here I bend 
 To Heaven's will. — I am forsaken. 
 
122 . ltteria: 
 
 LYTERIA. 
 
 (Supported by Lucius and Aulus seems to hear 
 the last ivords of her Father. She slowly re- 
 vives, looks tenderly upon Dcelius, and after 
 some moments raises herself and speaks.) 
 
 '- Not so, 
 
 My father; I return to lend what light 
 Affection may bestow to the dulPd sense 
 Of age. Forgive thy child, that, stunn'd by grief 
 So bitter, the rash soul striving with Fate, 
 Shook off the chain that binds us all to earth, 
 And clinging to his heart, which held its life, 
 Rush'd to the verge of being. I have near'd 
 Those precincts, where none tied to carnal life, 
 May enter. But some influence repell'd 
 The soul, not destin'd to put off its poor 
 Mortality. Yet brought so near the state 
 Of the enlighten'd, I have drank their teachings. 
 I saw the blessedness of him, who serves 
 The majesty of conscience with his life, 
 And yields what, in the name of Deity, 
 This monitor demands. Some must endure 
 The torture of the flesh, destin'd to wean 
 Man from the life he clings to ; — Others, call'd 
 
A DRAMATIC POEM. 123 
 
 By duty, bare the breast to the quick shaft, 
 Which ever seeks the savior of his race ; — 
 And those there are, who meekly must perform 
 An unapplauded service of the soul, 
 And wait for time's relief. 
 
 The grief of Rome 
 Call'd for the death of Curtius; — The last years 
 Of him whom most I reverence, and the care 
 That I am bless'd to render those cast out 
 From the world's sympathy, demand my being. 
 Duty — not self-imposed — asks man's submission. 
 With what devotion he discharged his part, 
 Ye are the witnesses. Pray that some share 
 Of his great strength descend upon the heart 
 Chosen from all the world to know him best. 
 Our Curtius died for Rome. Receive thy child; 
 Father ! — I live for thee. 
 
 THE END. 
 
Boston, 135 Washington Street. 
 September, 1854. 
 
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