University of Virginia Library

Morning—a Camp in the mountains.
Soldiers before the imperial tent.
Enter Nevitta, Hormisdas, Anatolius, Sallust.
NEVITTA.
The sun will soon arise: yon dusky mountain
Lifts his great outline hard against the light.
There are no clouds, the air is crisp and jocund,
And rosy fingers now are shaking out
Aurora's golden hair.

SALLUST.
'Tis strange to think
With what indifference does our mother Nature
Behold this worldly stage. She sits unmoved
While nations are extinguished, kings dethroned,
The temples of the Gods subverted. Equal
To her our joys or sorrows—they are but shadows
Passing and pass'd, upon the glass of time!
Yet, is not this a day when she might drop
Some tears, and clothe her limbs in darksome weeds?
For now two nations meet in mortal quarrel,
Two crowned brows frown terrible defiance,
Two mighty armies crowd one narrow field,
Two faiths contend for empire.

NEVITTA.
Hark, I hear
The adverse trumpets sounding, and the clash
Of cymbals, echoing through those winding mountains.
They speed a gallant summons.

ANATOLIUS.
Has the Emperor
Yet risen? Who has seen him? He should wake
Haply from his last slumber.

SOLDIER.
Hush, my lord:
Great Julian sleeps not; all this morn I heard
His step in motion, and he sometimes came,
All pale and solemn, to the tent door and gazed
Upon the stars. Once, as I paced aside,
His eye seemed wet—it had a wat'ry sparkle.

OFFICER.
The sentinel that walked the midnight watch
Tells a strange tale. The Emperor slept alone,
Yet were two voices heard within the tent
At the dead silent hour.

SOLDIER.
Ay, and he says
A figure, wrapt in tomb-like vestments, passed
Shadowy across the portal, soundless and swift.

ANATOLIUS.
'Tis credible on record that great men
Have awful warnings—that their souls, sublimed
From all mean matter, have held communing
With disembodied beings. Brutus met
Dead Cæsar at Philippi.

SALLUST.
If 'tis decreed,
The summons is for all—our web of life
Is mingled with his thread;—the gloomy sisters
Will close their shears on all. Look round, look round,
The mountains hem us in one common tomb—
We can but choose 'twixt famine and the sword.

Enter Julian.
NEVITTA.
Hail to thy bright sun, my imperial master!
It lights us to our labours smilingly.

HORMISDAS.
'Tis a good omen: hail, all conquering prince!
Shake not thy head—all will be well yet.

SALLUST.
Flatterer!
This is no time, (albeit our eyes are heavy
With watching, pain, and long anxiety,)
To shut them on the danger: it is broad
And imminent.

ANATOLIUS.
I am content to die
For thee, dear sov'reign, and th' old Roman honour,
And I rejoice the sun looks out to see us
Fall, like the Spartans with Leonidas.

JULIAN.
When men do feel but small hope to confront
The sun-set with their living eyes, methinks
Good day would be an idle ceremony.
It were an apter salutation
To say, even with an aching heart, farewell!

Enter Jovian.
JOVIAN.
Arm, arm, my prince,—around, on every side,
The Persian hosts unfold their countless squadrons,
From their primeval forests issuing:
I think there 's not a Parthian bow unstrung,
Or an Assyrian cuirassier unhelmed
For this encounter.

JULIAN.
Well, well, be it so—
We shall have gorgeous rites and many mourners.

NEVITTA.
Nay, think not thus: our soldiers ere to night
Shall tear rich booty from the runagates,
Bright golden comforters from comely corpses.
Hark to the Gothic trumpet! how it starts
(Sound of Trumpets.
Thick-coming, on the freshening gusts of air.
Anon our Gauls wind their deep cornet's breath
With a most manly music.

JOVIAN.
Look, my Lord.
There, by yon point of wood, (the dizzy road
Emerging round the cliff) half lost in shadows,
The stream of living war rolls slowly on.
Their bright array makes the pulse bound again,
Havock ne'er marched 'neath such a panoply.

NEVITTA.
Gods, what a gleam of armour! how their crests
Toss, and their saucy banners flout the sky.
How I do burn to give my horse the rein,
And loose my Gallic hounds upon them!

JULIAN.
Ay,
They are a noble quarry, meet companions
To sleep to-night with us on clay-cold pillows.

Enter Maximus.
MAXIMUS.
Let those woo death who have in life no hope,
And hug the ghastly comforter, Despair!
They fear a fall who take too bold a leap—
His head grows giddy that is perched too high.
The Persian speaks us fair—say, shall we fling
Our bodies to the trampling elephant,
And call it glory to be trod to death?

JULIAN.
Old priest, I pray thee step aside and tempt not
An angry nature in extremity.
Thou tread'st upon a serpent.

MAXIMUS.
Man-God! who
Shall chide but the infallible? Art thou
So sinless, so omnipotent? Who led
Rome's armies to these Caudine forks? Earth yawns:
Thou should'st leap in, like Curtius, alone.
Where is our hope? If ye join battle now,
So shall ye never see your native land,
Beside the sunny banks of Hellespont!
If ye submit, (I speak advisedly,
With undefiled honour, sound discretion,)
So shall ye clasp your longing wives again
And dance light-laughing babes on welcome knees.

JULIAN.
Away, I 'll hear no more.

MAXIMUS.
There have been men
Have seen strange prodigies—the sky last night
Was flushed with meteors. I myself beheld—

JULIAN.
Thou paltering priest, I do reject the omen.
Coward! thou dost betray us: cease, or mark me,
I 'll hang thee on that blasted tree, thou raven!
Go—grovel, slave, before thy recreant Gods,
I supplicate from them no hopeless succour.
The arrow-flight shall be our lightning's flash,
The hoofs of charging squadrons rattling thunder,
And, for Jove's eagles, we'll have Roman standards
Hovering above the foaming surge of battle,
To fright the wild eye of pale-visaged war.

MAXIMUS.
Good—but when thronging javelins bear thee down,
And hunt thee like the lion to the toils,
How shalt thou 'scape the doom? There is no way.

JULIAN.
Byzantine! dost not know our Roman way?
When Brutus saw his legions at Philippi
Broken, he fell upon his sword and died.
Cato survived not freedom. Antony
Set free his prisoned soul and laughed at bondage.

(Shouts within—blast of trumpets.
JOVIAN.
Hark! th' advanced guards meet. These are their trumpets.

JULIAN.
Who leads the Persian host to-day?

NEVITTA.
I saw
The trappings of the royal elephant
Gleam in the sun-set yesterday—he rode
So close upon our rear, we startled him
With a salute of arrows.

JULIAN.
Gallant companions,
This is no time for words: our deeds to-day
Shall speak our eulogy or epitaph.
I need not counsel Romans to be brave,
Or lecture veterans on points of duty;
Remember all you fight for—think of those
You shall re-visit soon, in shame or glory;
Or, dying, leave the hero's heritage—
Undying reputation. Choose, and nobly,
Chains or the arch of triumph—death or slavery!
(The cry of onset heard.
Away, away!