There came from me a sigh of pain
Which I could ill confine;

I looked at her, and looked again :
And did not wish her mine!'

Matthew is in his grave, yet now,
Methinks, I see him stand,
As at that moment, with a bough
Of wilding in his hand.

W. Wordsworth.

CCXX.

PARADISE.

(FROM 'PARADISE LOST.' BOOK IV.)

O on he* fares, and to the border comes
Of Eden, where delicious Paradise

Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green,
As with a rural mound, the champain head
Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides
With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild,
Access denied; and over-head up grew
Insuperable height of loftiest shade,

Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm,
A sylvan scene; and, as the ranks ascend
Shade above shade, a woody theatre

Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops
The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung:
Which to our general sire gave prospect large
Into his nether empire neighbouring round.
And higher than that wall a circling row
Of goodliest trees, loaden with fairest fruit,
Blossoms and fruits at once, of golden hue,
Appeared with gay enamelled colours mixed:

* He, Satan.

On which the Sun more glad impressed his beams
Than in fair evening cloud, or humid bow,

When God hath showered the earth; so lovely seemed
That landscape: and of pure, now purer air
Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires
Vernal delight and joy, able to drive

All sadness but despair: now gentle gales,
Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense
Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole
Those balmy spoils. As when, to them who sail
Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past
Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow
Sabean* odours from the spicy shore

Of Araby the blest; with such delay

Well pleased, they slack their course, and many a league Cheered with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles.

J. Milton.

CCXXI.

MACBETH.

ACT III. SCENE IV.-Hall in the Palace.

A Banquet prepared. Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Ross, LENNOX, Lords, and Attendants.

Macb.

Lords.

OU know your own degrees; sit down: at

first

And last the hearty welcome.

Thanks to your majesty.

Macb. Ourself will mingle with society,

And play the humble host.

Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time

We will require her welcome.

Lady M. Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends;

For my heart speaks they are welcome.

* Sabaea, part of Arabia.

Macb.

First Murderer appears at the door.

See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks.

Both sides are even: here I'll sit i' the midst :

Be large in mirth; anon we'll drink a measure

The table round. [Approaching the door.] There's blood upon thy face.

Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then.

Mach. 'Tis better thee without than he within. Is he dispatched?

Mur. My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him. Mach. Thou art the best o' the cut-throats : yet he's

good

That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it,

Thou art the nonpareil.

Mur.

Fleance is 'scaped.

Most royal sir,

Macb. Then comes my fit again: I had else been perfect,

Whole as the marble, founded as the rock,

As broad and general as the casing air:

But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in
To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe?
Mur. Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides,
With twenty trenchéd gashes on his head;

The least a death to nature.

Macb.

Thanks for that:

There the grown serpent lies; the worm that's fled
Hath nature that in time will venom breed,

No teeth for the present. Get thee gone: to-morrow
We'll hear, ourselves, again.

Lady M.

[Exit Murderer.

My royal lord,

You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold

That is not often vouched, while 'tis a-making,

'Tis given with welcome: to feed were best at home; From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony;

Meeting were bare without it.

Sweet remembrancer!

Macb.

Now, good digestion wait on appetite,

And health on both!

Len.

May't please your highness sit. [The Ghost of Banquo enters, and sits in Macbeth's place.

Macb. Here had we now our country's honour roofed, Were the graced person of our Banquo present,

Whom may I rather challenge for unkindness

Than pity for mischance.

Ross.

His absence, sir,

Lays blame upon his promise. Please't your highness To grace us with your royal company.

Macb. The table's full.

Len.

Macb. Where?

Here is a place reserved, sir.

Len. Here, my good lord. What is't that moves your

highness?

Macb. Which of you have done this?

Lords.

What, my good lord? Macb. Thou canst not say I did it never shake Thy gory locks at me.

Ross. Gentlemen, rise: his highness is not well. Lady M. Sit, worthy friends: my lord is often thus, And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat; The fit is momentary; upon a thought

He will again be well: if much you note him,
You shall offend him and extend his passion :

Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man?

Macb. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that Which might appal the devil.

Lady M.

O proper stuff!
This is the very painting of your fear :

This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said,
Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts,
Impostors to true fear, would well become
woman's story at a winter's fire,

Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself!

Why do you make such faces? When all's done,
You look but on a stool.

Macb. Prithee, see there! behold! look! lo! how say you?

Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.
If charnel-houses and our graves must send

Those that we bury back, our monuments
Shall be the maws of kites.

Lady M.

[Ghost vanishes.

What, quite unmanned in folly?

Fie, for shame!

Macb. If I stand here, I saw him.
Lady M.

Macb. Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden Ere human statute purged the gentle weal;

[time,

Ay, and since too, murders have been performed
Too terrible for the ear: the times have been,

That, when the brains were out, the man would die,
And there an end; but now they rise again,
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
And push us from our stools: this is more strange
Than such a murder is.

Lady M.

My worthy lord,

Your noble friends do lack you.

Macb.

I do forget.

Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends;

I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing

To those that know me. Come, love and health to all;
Then I'll sit down. Give me some wine; fill full.

I drink to the general joy o' the whole table,
And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss ;
Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst,
And all to all.

Lords.

Our duties, and the pledge.

Re-enter Ghost.

Macb. Avaunt! and quit my sight! let the earth hide Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;

[thee!