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ion driven, Because not altogether of such clay As rots into the souls of those whom I survey. CXXXVI.[or] From mighty wrongs to petty perfidy Have I not seen what human things could do? From the loud roar of foaming calumny To the small whisper of the as paltry few-- And subtler venom of the reptile crew, The Janus glance[510] of whose significant eye, Learning to lie with silence, would _seem_ true-- And without utterance, save the shrug or sigh, Deal round to happy fools its speechless obloquy. CXXXVII. But I have lived, and have not lived in vain: My mind may lose its force, my blood its fire, And my frame perish even in conquering pain; But there is that within me which shall tire Torture and Time, and breathe when I expire; Something unearthly, which they deem not of, Like the remembered tone of a mute lyre, Shall on their softened spirits sink, and move In hearts all rocky now the late remorse of Love. CXXXVIII. The seal is set.--Now welcome, thou dread Power! Nameless, yet thus omnipotent, which here Walk'st in the shadow of the midnight hour With a deep awe, yet all distinct from fear; Thy haunts are ever where the dead walls rear Their ivy mantles, and the solemn scene Derives from thee a sense so deep and clear That we become a part of what has been, And grow upon the spot--all-seeing but unseen. CXXXIX. And here the buzz of eager nations ran, In murmured pity, or loud-roared applause, As man was slaughtered by his fellow man. And wherefore slaughtered? wherefore, but because Such were the bloody Circus' genial laws, And the imperial pleasure.--Wherefore not? What matters where we fall to fill the maws Of worms--on battle-plains or listed spot? Both are but theatres--where the chief actors rot. CXL. I see before me the Gladiator[511] lie: He leans upon his hand--his manly brow[os] Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his drooped head sinks gradually low-- And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,[ot] Like the first of a thunder-shower; and
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