SCENE II.-THE GARDEN OF SULPICIUS.
Enter SULPICIUS, and PORTIA, with flowers in her hand.
Por. Was it not well to rise with early morn
And pay my homage to sweet Flora? Never
Were flowers by midday cull'd so fair, so fragrant,
With blending streaky tints, so fresh and bright.
See; twinkling dew-drops lurk in every bell,
And on the fibred leaves stray far apart,
Like little rounded gems of silver sheen,
Whilst curling tendrils grasp with vigorous hold
The stem that bears them! All looks young and
fresh.
The very spider through his circled cage
Of wiry woof, amongst the buds suspended,
Scarce seems a loathly thing, but like the small
Imprison'd bird of some capricious nymph.
Is it not so, my father?
An ardent, strange desire, though mix'd with fear.
Nay, do not smile, my father: such fair sights
Were seen-were often seen in ancient days;
The poets tell us so.
But look, the Indian roses I have foster'd
Are in full bloom; and I must gather them!
[EXIT eagerly.
Sul. (alone.) Go, gentle creature, thou art careless yet:
Ah! could'st thou so remain, and still with me
Be as in years gone by !-It may not be;
Nor should I wish it all things have their season:
She may not now remain an old man's treasure.
With all her woman's beauty grown to blossom.
The Parthian prince at such an early hour?
Orc. And who considers hours, whose heart is
bent
Sul. Yes, morn and youth and freshness sweetly On what concerns a lover and a friend?
And are the emblems of dear changeful days.
By night those beauteous things-
Por.
And what of night?
Why do you check your words? You are not sad?
Sul. No; Portia, only angry with myself
For crossing thy gay stream of youthful thoughts
With those of sullen age. Away with them!
What if those bright-leaved flowers, so soft and
silken,
Are gathered into dank and wrinkled folds
When evening chills them, or upon the earth
With broken stems and buds torn and dispersed,
Lie prostrate, of fair form and fragrance reft
When midnight winds pass o'er them; be it so!
All things but have their term.
In truth, my child, I'm glad that I indulged thee
By coming forth at such an early hour
To pay thy worship to so sweet a goddess,
Upon her yearly feast.
Por. I thank you, father! On her feast, 'tis said,
That she, from mortal eye conceal'd, vouchsafes
Her presence in such sweet and flowery spots:
And where due offerings on her shrine are laid,
Blesses all seeds and shoots, and things of promise.
Sul. How many places in one little day
She needs must visit then!
Por. But she moves swift as thought. The hasty
That stirr'd each slender leaf, now as we enter'd, And made a sudden sound, by stillness follow'd, Might be the rustling of her passing robe.
Sul. A pleasing fancy, Portia, for the moment, Yet wild as pleasing.
Wherefore call it wild? Full many a time I've listen'd when alone In such fair spots as this, and thought I heard Sweet mingled voices uttering varied tones Of question and reply, pass on the wind, And heard soft steps upon the ground; and then The notion of bright Venus or Diana, Or goddess nymphs, would come so vividly Into my mind, that I am almost certain Their radiant forms were near me, though conceal'd By subtle drapery of the ambient air.
And O, how I have long'd to look upon them;
Where is thy daughter?
Sul. Within yon flowery thicket, blithe and
Charm, even to wonderment; that mighty hand
Which dies the mountain's peak with rosy tints
Sent from the rising sun, and to the barb'd,
Destructive lightning gives its ruddy gleam,
Grand and terrific, thus adorns even you!
There is a father's full, unstinted love
Display'd o'er all, and thus on all I gaze
With the keen thrill of new-waked ecstasy.
What voice is that so near me and so sweet?
(Portia without, singing some notes of prelude,
and then a Song.)
The lady in her early bower
Is blest as bee in morning flower;
The lady's eye is flashing bright,
Like water in the morning light;
The lady's song is sweet and loud,
Like skylark o'er the morning cloud;
The lady's smiles are smiles that pass
Like morning's breath o'er wavy grass.
She thinks of one, whose harness'd car
In triumph comes from distant war;
She thinks of one, whose martial state
Will darken Rome's imperial gate;
She thinks of one, with laurel crown'd,
Who shall with sweeter wreaths be bound.
Voice, eye, and smiles, in mingled play,
The lady's happy thoughts betray.
Cor. Her voice indeed, and this my favourite song!
It is that gentle creature, my sweet Portia
I call her mine, because she is the image
Which hath possess'd my fancy. Such vain
thoughts
Must now give place. I will not linger here.
This is the garden of Sulpicius;
How have I miss'd my path? She sings again.
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Had not the execution of those Christians-
(Pests of the earth, whom on one burning pile,
With all their kind, I would most gladly punish,)
Till now prevented me. Thy friend, Orceres-
Thou owest him thanks-plead for thee powerfully,
And had my leave. But dost thou listen to me?
Thy face wears many colours, and big drops
Burst from thy brow, whilst thy contracted lips
Quiver, like one in pain.
Orc. What sudden illness racks thee?
Cor. I may not tell you now: let me depart.
Sul. (holding him.) Thou art my promised son;
I have a right
To know whate'er concerns thee,-pain or pleasure.
Cor. And so thou hast, and I may not deceive
Take, take, Sulpicius.-O such withering words!
The sinking, sickening heart and parched mouth!
I cannot utter them.
Sul. Why in this agony of perturbation?
Nay, strive not now to speak.
Cor.
I must, I must!(Sings without, as before.) Take back thy proffer'd gift; all earth could
She wanders fitfully from lay to lay,
But all of them some air that I have praised
In happy hours gone by.
The kind heart speaks with words so kindly sweet, That kindred hearts the catching tones repeat; And love, therewith his soft sigh gently blending, Makes pleasing harmony. Thus softly sending Its passing cheer across the stilly main, Whilst in the sounding water dips the oar, And glad response bursts from the nearing shore, Comes to our ears the home-bound seamen's strain, Who from the lofty deck, hail their own land again. Cor. O gentle, sweet, and cheerful! form'd to be Whate'er my heart could prize of treasured love! Dear as thou art, I will not linger here.
Re-enter SULPICIUS and ORCERES, breaking out upon him, and ORCERES catching hold of his robe as he is going off.
Orc. Ha! noble Maro, to a coward turn'd, Shunning a spot of danger!
The fellest foe thou shalt contend with here,
Is her thou call'st so gentle. As for me,
I do not offer thee this hand more freely
Than I will grant all that may make thee happy,
If Portia has that power.
Cor. And dost thou mean, in very earnest mean,
That which it cannot give I must retain.
Sul. What words are these? If it were possible, I could believe thee touch'd with sorcery, The cursed art of those vile Nazarenes.
Where hast thou past the night? their haunts are
Orc. Nay, nay; repress thine anger; noble Maro May not be question'd thus.
Sul. He may, and shall. And yet I will not
If he, with hand press'd on his breast, will say, That he detests those hateful Nazarenes.
Cor. No; though my life, and what is dearer far My Portia's love, depended on the words, I would not, and I durst not utter them.
Sul. I see it well: thou art insnared and blinded By their enchantments. Demoniac power Will drag thee to thy ruin. Cast it off; Defy it. Say thou wilt forbear all intercourse With this detested sect. Art thou a madman? Cor. If I am mad, that which possesses me Outvalues all philosophers e'er taught, Or poets e'er imagined.-Listen to me. Call ye these Christians vile, because they suffer All nature shrinks from, rather than deny What seems to them the truth? Call ye them sor
Because their words impart such high conceptions
Of power creative and parental love,
In one great Being join'd, as makes the heart
Bound with ennobling thoughts? Call ye them
Who daily live in steady strong assurance
Of endless blessedness? O, listen to me!
Re-enter PORTIA, bursting from a thicket close to them.
Por. O, listen to him, father!
Sul. I will not betray him.
Por. Then all may yet be well; for our great
gods,
Whom Cæsar and his subject nations worship,
Will not abandon Rome's best, bravest soldier
To power demoniac. That can never be
If they indeed regard us.
Orc. Were he in Parthia, our great god, the sun,
Or rather he who in that star resides,
Would not permit his power to be so thwarted,
Sul. Let go my robe, fond creature! Listen to For all the demonry that e'er exerted
Its baleful influence on wretched men.
Beshrew me for a thought gleams through my
brain,
It is this God, perhaps, with some new name,
Which these bewilder'd Nazarenes adore.
Sul. With impious rites, most strange and horri
Orc. If he, my friend, in impious rites hath join'd,
Demons, indeed, have o'er the soul of man
A power to change its nature. Ay, Sulpicius;
And thou and I may, ere a day shall pass,
Be very Nazarenes. We are in ignorance;
We shoot our arrow in the dark, and cry,
Sul. Vain hope! vain hope! What is man's It is to wound a foe.' Come, gentle Portia ;
Opposed to demon subtlety? Cordenius!
Cordenius Maro! I adjure thee, go!
Be not so sad; the man thou lovest is virtuous,
And brave, and loves thee well; why then despair?
Por. Alas! I know he is brave and virtuous,
Leave me; why wouldst thou pull destruction on Therefore, I do despair.
On one who loved thee so, that though possess'd
Of but one precious pearl, most dearly prized,
Prized more than life, yet would have given it to
thee.
I needs must weep: e'en for thyself I weep.
Cor. Weep not, my kind Sulpicius! I will leave
thee,
Albeit the pearl thou wouldst bestow upon me
Is, in my estimation, dearer far
Than life, or power, or fame, or earthly thing.
When these fierce times are past, thou wilt, per-
haps,
Think of me with regard, but not with pity,
How fell soe'er my earthly end hath been,
For I shall then be blest. And thou, dear Portia,
Wilt thou remember me? That thought, alas!
Dissolves my soul in weakness.-
O, to be spared, if it were possible,
This stroke of agony. Is it not possible,
That I might yet- -Almighty God forgive me!
Weak thoughts will lurk in the devoted heart,
But not be cherish'd there. I may not offer
Aught short of all to thee.
Farewell, farewell! sweet Portia, fare thee well!
(Orceres catches hold of him to prevent his going.)
Retain me not: I am a Parthian now,
My strength is in retreat.
Por. That noble mind! and must it then be
ruin'd?
O save him, save him, father! Brave Orceres,
Wilt thou not save thy friend, the noble Maro?
Orc. We will, sweet maid, if it be possible.
We'll keep his faith a secret in our breasts;
And he may yet, if not by circumstances
Provoked to speak, conceal it from the world.
Por. And you, my father?
Orc.
In Nero's court, indeed,
Such men are ever on the brink of danger,
But wouldst thou have him other than he is?
Por. O no! I would not; that were base and
Yet shed tears, e'en like a wayward child
Who weeps for that which cannot be attain'd,--
Virtue, and constancy, and safety join'd.
I pray thee pardon me, for I am wretched,
And that doth make me foolish and perverse.
[EXEUNT.
SCENE I.-BEFORE THE GATE OF NERO'S PALACE :
GUARDS WITH THEIR OFFICERS, DISCOVERED ON
Enter to them another OFFICER, speaking as he enters to the SOLDIERS.
First Offi. Strike up some sacred strain of Roman
triumph;
The Pontiff comes to meet the summon'd council.
Omit not this respect, else he will deem
We are of those who love the Nazarenes.
Sing loud and clearly.
SACRED HYMN BY THE SOLDIERS
That chief, who bends to Jove the suppliant knee,
Shall firm in power and high in honour be;
And who to Mars a soldier's homage yields,
Shall laurell'd glory reap in bloody fields;
Who vine-crown'd Bacchus, bounteous lord, adores,
Shall gather still, unscath'd, his vintage stores;
Who to fair Venus liberal offering gives,
Enrich'd with love, and sweet affection lives.
Then, be your praises still our sacred theme,
O Venus, Bacchus, Mars, and Jove. supreme !
Pon. I thank ye, soldiers! Rome, indeed, hath triumph'd,
Bless'd in the high protection of her gods,
The sovereign warrior nation of the world;
And, favour'd by great Jove and mighty Mars,
So may she triumph still, nor meanly stoop
To worship strange and meaner deities,
Adverse to warlike glory. [EXIT, with his train.
First Offi. The Pontiff seems disturb'd, his brow
Enter ORCERES, followed by SULPICIUS.
The Parthian prince, who will inform us truly.
Orceres, is thy friend Cordenius coming?
I have commanded him, and at this hour,
To bring his guarded prisoner to the palace,
Here to remain till the appointed time.
Orc. I know not; nor have I beheld Cordenius
Since yesterday; when, at an early hour,
Sulpicius and myself met him by chance:
Second Offi. Reproof and caution, mingled with But for the prisoner, he is at hand,
E'en at the palace gate; for as we enter'd
We saw him there, well circled round with guards,
Though in the martial throng we saw not Maro.
Nero. (To the Pontiff.) Said I not so?
(To an Officer.) Command them instantly
To bring this wordy Grecian to our presence.
Third Offi. Ay, ay! the sacred chickens are in Sulpicius, thou hast known this Ethocles,
Second Offi. Sylvius is suspected, as I hear. First Offi. Hush! let us to our duty; it is time To change the inner guard.
[EXEUNT with music, into the gate of the palace.
SCENE II.-A COUNCIL CHAMBER IN THE PALACE,
NERO WITH HIS COUNSELLORS DISCOVERED; NERO
IN THE ACT OF SPEAKING.
Nero. Yes, Servius; formerly we have admitted,
As minor powers, amongst the ancient gods
Of high imperial Rome, the foreign deities
Of friendly nations; but these Nazarenes
Scorn such association, proudly claiming
For that which is the object of their faith,
Sole, undivided homage: and our altars,
Our stately temples, the majestic forms
Of Mars, Apollo, thundering Jove himself,
By sculptor's art divine, so nobly wrought,
Are held by these mad zealots in contempt.
Examine, sayest thou shall imperial Cæsar
Deign to examine what withstands his power?
I marvel at thy folly, Servius Sillus.
Offi. The Pontiff, mighty Cæsar, waits without, And craves admittance.
Nero. Let him be admitted.
Pontiff, thy visage, if I read it well,
Says, that some weighty matter brings thee here:
Thou hast our leave to speak.
Pon. Imperial Nero, didst thou not condemn
That eloquent, but pestilential Nazarene,
The Grecian Ethocles, whose specious words
Wrap in delusion all who listen to him,
Spreading his baleful errors o'er the world?
Nero. Did I condemn him! E'en this very day,
He in the amphitheatre meets his doom;
Having, I trust, no power of words to charm
The enchafed lion, or the famish'd wolf.
Pon. I am inform'd, and I believe it true
That this bold malefactor is enlarged.
Nero. It is impossible! Cordenius Maro
Is sworn to guard the prisoner; or, failing,
(How could he fail?) to pay with his own life
The forfeit. But behold his favourite friend,
Is he a madman or ambitious knave,
Who sought on human folly to erect
A kind of fancied greatness for himself?
Sul. I know not which, great Nero.
Nero. And didst thou not advise me earnestly
To rid the state of such a pestilence?
Sul. And still advise thee, Nero; for this Greek
Is dangerous above all, who, with their lives,
Have yet paid forfeit for their strange belief.
They come the prisoner in foreign garb
So closely wrapp'd, I scarcely see his face.
Enter PRISONER, attended.
Pon. If it in truth be he.
Nero. (To the Pontiff.) Dost thou still doubt?
(To the Prisoner.) Stand forth, audacious rebel, to
my will!
Dost thou still brave it, false and subtle spirit?
Cor. (throwing off his Grecian cloak, and
advancing to Nero.) I am not false, Au-
gustus, but if subtle,
Add to my punishment what shall be deem'd
Meet retribution. I have truly sworn,
Or to produce thy thrall, or, therein failing,
To give my life for his; and here I stand.
Ethocles, by a higher power than thine,
Is yet reserved for great and blessed ends.
Take thou the forfeit; I have kept my oath.
Nero. I am amazed beyond the power of utter-
Grows it to such a pitch that Rome's brave captains
Are by this wizard sorcery so charm'd?
Then it is time, good sooth! that sweeping ven
Should rid the earth of every tainted thing
Which that curst sect hath touch'd. Cordenius
Thou who hast fought our battles, graced our state,
And borne a noble Roman's honour'd name,
What, O what power could tempt thee to this
shame?
Cor. I have been tempted by that mighty Power,
Who gave to Rome her greatness, to the earth
Form and existence; yea, and to the soul
Of living, active man, sense and perception:
But not to shame, O Cæsar! not to shame!
Nero. What, hast thou not become a Nazarene,
As now I apprehended? Say, thou hast not;
And though thy present act is most audacious,
Yet will I spare thy life.
First bind thyself by every sacred oath
To give this body to the flames, then hear me ;
O could I speak what might convince Rome's chief,
Cor. If thou wouldst spare my life and to that Her senators, her tribes, her meanest slaves,
Add all the wealth of Rome, and all the power
Of Rome's great lord, I would not for the bribe
Be other than I am, or what I am
Nero. Thou art a Christian, then? Thou art a
maniac!
Cor. I am a man, who, seeing in the flames
Those dauntless Christians suffer, long'd to know
What power could make them brave the fear of
death,
Disgrace, and infamy. And I have learnt
That they adore a God,-one God, supreme,
Who, over all men, his created sons,
Rules as a father; and beholding sin,
Growth of corruption, mar this earthly race,
Sent down to earth his sinless, heavenly Son,
Who left, with generous devoted love,
His state of exaltation and of glory,
To win them back to virtue, yea, to virtue
Which shall be crown'd with never-ending bliss.
I've learnt that they with deep adoring gratitude
Pay homage to that Son, the sent of God,
Who here became a willing sacrifice
To save mankind from sin and punishment,
And earn for them a better life hereafter,
Of Christ's most blessed truth, the fatal pile
Would be to me a car of joyful triumph,
Mounted more gladly than the laurell'd hero
Vaults to his envied seat, while Rome's throng'd
Resound his shouted name. Within me stirs
The spirit of truth and power which spoke to me,
And will upon thy mind.-
Nero.
I charge thee cease!
Orc. Nay, emperor! might I entreat for him?
Cor. (catching hold of Orceres eagerly.) Not for
my life.
Orc. No; not for that, brave Maro!
(To Nero.) Let me entreat that he may freely
speak.
Fear'st thou he should convince thee by his words?
That were a foul affront to thine own reason,
Or to the high divinities of Rome.
Nero. Cease, Prince of Parthia! nor too far pre
Upon a noble stranger's privilege.
Pon. Shall words so bold be to mine ear august So freely utter'd with impunity?
Orc. Pontiff! I much revere thy sacred office, But scorn thy paltry words. Not freely speak! Not with impunity! Is this a threat?
When mortal life is closed. The heart's deep ho- Let Rome's great master, or his angry slaves,
Becoming well such creatures, so redeem'd.
Nero. Out on that dreaming madness?
Cor. Is it madness
To be the humble follower of Him,
Who left the bliss of heaven to be for us
A man on earth, in spotless virtue living
As man ne'er lived: such words of comfort speak
To rouse, and elevate, and cheer the heart,
As man ne'er spoke; and suffering poverty,
Contempt, and wrong, and pain, and death itself,
As man ne'er suffer'd ?-O, if this be madness,
Which makes each generous impulse of my nature
Warm into ecstasy, each towering hope
Rise to the noblest height of bold conception;
That which is reason call'd, and yet has taught you
To worship different gods in every clime,
As dull and wicked as their worshippers,
Compared to it, is poor, confined, and mean,
As is the Scythian's curtain'd tent, compared
With the wide range of fair, expanded nature.
Nero. Away, away! with all those lofty words!
They but bewilder thee.
Cor. Yet hear them, Nero! O resist them not!
Perhaps they are appointed for thy good,
And for the good of thousands. When these hands
Which have so oft done Rome a soldier's service,
This tongue which speaks to thee, are turn'd to
ashes,
What now appears so wild and fanciful,
May be remembered with far other feelings.
It is not life that I request of Nero,
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Thou'lt injure him thou plead'st for. Noble Cæsar!
Permit an aged man, a faithful servant,
To speak his thoughts. This brave deluded youth
Is now, as I sincerely do believe,
Beneath the power of strong and dire enchantment.
Hear not his raving words, but spare his life,
And when its power (for all delusion holds
Its power but for a season) shall be spent,
He will himself entreat your clemency,
And be again the soldier of the state,
Brave and obedient. Do not hear him now;
Command him to retire.
Cor. I thank thee, good Sulpicius, but my life,
For which thou plead'st, take no account of that;
I yield it freely up to any death,
Cruel or merciful, which the decree
Of Cæsar shall inflict, for leave to speak
E'en but a few short moments. Princely Nero!
The strong enchantment which deludes my soul
Is, that I do believe myself the creature,
Subject and soldier, if I so may speak,
Of an Almighty Father, King, and Lord,
Before whose presence, when my soul shall be
Of flesh and blood disrobed, I shall appear,
Although I said these hands have fought for Rome. There to remain with all the great and good
No; in the presence of these senators,
That e'er have lived on earth; yea, and with spirits
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