Caractacus: A Dramatic Poem: Written on the Model of the Ancient Greek Tragedy

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J. Knapton, 1759 - English drama - 95 pages
 

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Page 1 - Gaze on the solemn scene : behold yon oak, How stern he frowns, and with his broad brown arms Chills the pale plain beneath him : mark yon altar, The dark stream brawling round its rugged base, These cliffs, these yawning caverns, this wide circus, Skirted with unhewn stone : they awe my soul, As if the very Genius of the place Himself appear'd, and with terrific tread Stalk'd through his drear domain.
Page 83 - I know you Romans weep not for your children ; Ye triumph o'er your tears, and think it valour ; I triumph in my tears. Yes, best-lov'd boy, Yes, I can weep, can fall upon thy corse, And I can tear my hairs, these few grey hairs, The only honours war and age hath left me.
Page 33 - For while he talks, (and much the flatterer talks) His brother's silent carriage gives disproof Of all his boast ; indeed I mark'd it well ; And, as my father with the elder held Bold...
Page 52 - That on my soul doth lie some secret grief These looks perforce will tell : It is not fear, Druids, it is not fear that shakes me thus ; The great gods know it is not : Ye can never : For, what though wisdom lifts ye next those gods, Ye cannot, like to...
Page 2 - Reside the Sages skill'd in nature's lore : The changeful universe, its numbers, powers, Studious they measure, save when meditation Gives place to holy rites : then in the grove Each hath his rank and function. Yonder grots Are tenanted by bards, who nightly thence, Rob'd in their flowing vests of innocent white, Descend, with harps that glitter to the moon, Hymning immortal strains.
Page 53 - I know, and terrible means; And 'tis both fit, that you should try those means, And I endure them : Yet I think my patience Will for some space baffle your torturing fury.
Page 82 - Then I'm indeed a captive. Mighty gods ! My soul, my soul submits : Patient it bears The pond'rous load of grief ye heap upon it. Yes, it will grovel in this shatter'd breast, And be the sad tame thing it ought to be, Coopt in a servile body.
Page 1 - ... altar, The dark stream brawling round its rugged base, These cliffs, these yawning caverns, this wide circus, Skirted with unhewn stone : they awe my soul, As if the very Genius of the place Himself appear'd, and with terrific tread Stalk'd through his drear domain. And yet, my friends...
Page 91 - This is meant to describe the rocking-stone, of which there are several still to be seen in Wales, Cornwall, and Derbyshire. They are universally supposed, by antiquarians, to be Druid monuments; and Mr. Toland thinks, " that the Druids made the people believe that " they only could move them, and that by a miracle, by " which they condemned or acquitted the accused, and " often brought criminals to confess what could in no " other way be extorted from them.

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