Walter Savage Landor

“ Vipsania.
Tiberius! the altars, the gods, the destinies, are between us I will take it from this hand; thus, thus shall he receive it.
Tiberius.
Raise up thy face, my beloved! I must not shed tears. Augustus! Livia! ye shall not extort them from me. Vipsania, I may kiss thy head for I have saved it. Thou sayest nothing. I have wronged thee; ay?
Vipsania.
Ambition does not see the earth she treads on: the rock and the herbage are of one substance to her. Let me excuse you to my heart, O Tiberius. It has many wants; this is the first and greatest. ”

“ No tenderness, no fondness, from the first:
A love of power, a love of perfidy,
Such is the love that is returned for mine.
Ungrateful man! ’twas not the pageantry
Of regal state, the clarions, nor the guard,
Nor loyal valour, nor submissive beauty,
Silence at my approach, awe at my voice,
Happiness at my smile, that led my youth
Towards Roderigo! I had lived obscure,
In humbleness, in poverty, in want,
Blest, O supremely blest! with him alone;
And he abandons me, rejects me, scorns me,
Insensible! inhuman! for another!
Thou shalt repent thy wretched choice, false man! ”

“ Muza. I may accelerate that meteor’s fall,
And quench that idle ineffectual light
Without the knowledge of thy distant world.
Jul. My world and thine are not that distant one.
Is age less wise, less merciful, than grief,
To keep this secret from thee, poor old man?
Thou canst not lessen, canst not aggravate
My sufferings, canst not shorten nor extend
Half a sword’s length between my God and me.
I thank thee for that better thought than fame,
Which none, however, who deserve, despise,
Nor lose from view till all things else are lost.
Abd. Julian, respect his age, regard his power. ”

“ They bring me tales of youth and tones of love,
And 'tis and ever was my wish and way
To let all flowers live freely, and all die,
Whene'er their Genius bids their souls depart,
Among their kindred in their native place.
I never pluck the rose; the violet's head
Hath shaken with my breath upon its bank
And not reproacht me; the ever-sacred cup
Of the pure lily hath between my hands
Felt safe, unsoil'd, nor lost one grain of gold.
I saw the light that made the glossy leaves
More glossy; the fair arm, the fairer cheek
Warmed by the eye intent on its pursuit ”

“ Being a man, you are at liberty to admire a variety, and to make a choice. Is that no comfort to you?
Dante.
Bid this bosom cease to grieve?
Bid these eyes fresh objects see?
Where’s the comfort to believe
None might once have rivall’d me?
What! my freedom to receive?
Broken hearts, are they the free?
For another can I live
When I may not live for thee?
Beatrice. I will never be fond of you again if you are so violent. We have been together too long, and we may be noticed.
Dante. Is this our last meeting? If it is ... and that it is, my heart has told me ... ”

“ Egil. What pliancy! what tenderness! what life!
O for the smiles of those who smile so seldom,
The love of those who know no other love!
Such he was, Egilona, who was thine.
Jul. While he was worthy of the realm and thee.
Egil. Can it be true, then, Julian, that thy aim
Is sovranty? not virtue, nor revenge?
Jul. I swear to heaven, nor I, nor child of mine,
Ever shall mount to this polluted throne. ”

“ Julian goes before Opas enters.
Opas. I cannot but commend, O Egilona,
Such resignation and such dignity.
Indeed he is unworthy; yet a queen
Rather to look for peace, and live remote
From cities, and from courts, and from her lord,
I hardly could expect in one so young,
So early, widely, wondrously admired.
Egi. I am resolved: religious men, good Opas,
In this resemble the vain libertine;
They find in woman no consistency,
No virtue but devotion, such as comes
To infancy or age, or fear or love,
Seeking a place of rest, and finding none
Until it soar to heaven. ”

“ Dost weep, lad? Nay, nay; thou bearest up bravely. Silas, I now find, although the example come before me from humble life, that what my mother said was true—’t was upon my father’s demise—‘In great grief there are few tears.’”
Upon which did the youth, Willy Shakspeare, jog himself by the memory, and repeat these short verses, not wide from the same purport:
“There are, alas, some depths of woe
Too vast for tears to overflow.”
Sir Thomas.
“Let those who are sadly vexed in spirit mind that notion, whoever indited it, and be men. I always was; but some little griefs have pinched me woundily.” ”

“ Can the voice of a minstrel tell us better things of ourselves than our own internal one might tell us; or can his breath make our breath softer in sleep? O my beloved! let everything be a joyance to us: it will, if we will. Sad is the day, and worse must follow, when we hear the blackbird in the garden, and do not throb with joy. But, Leofric, the high festival is strown by the servant of God upon the heart of man. It is gladness, it is thanksgiving; it is the orphan, the starveling, pressed to the bosom, and bidden as its first commandment to remember its benefactor. ”

“ Muza. Away with him.
Jul. Slaves! not before I lift
My voice to heaven and man: though enemies
Surround me, and none else, yet other men
And other times shall hear: the agony
Of an opprest and of a bursting heart
No violence can silence; at its voice
The trumpet is o’erpowered, and glory mute,
And peace and war hide all their charms alike.
Surely the guests and ministers of heaven
Scatter it forth thro’ all the elements,
So suddenly, so widely, it extends,
So fearfully men breathe it, shuddering
To ask or fancy how it first arose.
Muza. ”

“ Yea, Silas! and thou wouldst give him eternity!”
“What, sir! would you let him go?” said Master Silas. “Presently we shall have neither deer nor dog, neither hare nor coney, neither swan nor heron; every carp from pool, every bream from brook, will be groped for. The marble monuments in the church will no longer protect the leaden coffins; and if there be any ring of gold on the finger of knight or dame, it will be torn away with as little ruth and ceremony as the ring from a butchered sow’s snout.” ”

“ Or dared I show her half my love, ’twere bliss.
Egi. Oh! I sink under gentleness like thine.
Thy sight is death to me; and yet ’tis dear.
The gaudy trappings of assumptive state
Drop at the voice of nature to the earth,
Before thy feet—I cannot force myself
To hate thee, to renounce thee; yet—Covilla!
Yet—oh distracting thought! ’tis hard to see,
Hard to converse with, to admire, to love—
As from my soul I do, and must do, thee—
One who hath robbed me of all pride and joy,
All dignity, all fondness. I adored
Roderigo—he was brave, and in discourse
Most voluble ”

“ All schools of philosophy, and almost all authors, are rather to be frequented for exercise than for freight; but this exercise ought to acquire us health and strength, spirits and good-humour. There is none of them that does not supply some truth useful to every man, and some untruth equally so to the few that are able to wrestle with it. If there were no falsehood in the world, there would be no doubt; if there were no doubt, there would be no inquiry; if no inquiry, no wisdom, no knowledge, no genius: and Fancy herself would lie muffled up in her robe, inactive, pale, and bloated. ”

“ His stature seemed to rise therefrom as from a pulpit, and Sir Thomas was quite edified.
“Obedient and conducible youth!” said he. “See there, Master Silas! what hast thou now to say against him? Who sees farthest?”
“The man from the gallows is the most likely, bating his nightcap and blinker,” said Master Silas, peevishly. “He hath not outwitted me yet.”
“He seized upon the Anchor of Faith like a martyr,” said Sir Thomas, “and even now his face burns red as elder-wine before the gossips.”
William Shakspeare.
“I await the further orders of your worship from the chair.” ”

“ Scatter this wan suffusion o’er thy brow,
This faint blue lustre under both thine eyes?”
“O brother, is this pity or reproach?”
Cried Tamar; “cruel if it be reproach,
If pity, oh, how vain!”
“Whate’er it be
That grieves thee, I will pity: thou but speak
And I can tell thee, Tamar, pang for pang.”
“Gebir! then more than brothers are we now!
Everything, take my hand, will I confess.
I neither feed the flock nor watch the fold;
How can I, lost in love? But, Gebir, why
That anger which has risen to your cheek?
Can other men? could you?—what, no reply! ”

“ Timotheus. You have ridiculed all religion and all philosophy.
Lucian. I have found but little of either. I have cracked many a nut, and have come only to dust or maggots.
Timotheus. To say nothing of the saints, are all philosophers fools or impostors? And, because you cannot rise to the ethereal heights of Plato, nor comprehend the real magnitude of a man so much above you, must he be a dwarf?
Lucian. The best sight is not that which sees best in the dark or the twilight; for no objects are then visible in their true colours, and just proportions ”