Que son nom soit beni. Que son nom soit chanté. Que l’on celebre ses ouvrages Au de la de l’eternité. _Esther, act 5. sc. last._ Me miserable! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath and infinite despair? Which way I fly is hell: myself am hell: And in the _lowest_ deep, a _lower_ deep Still threat’ning to devour me, opens wide; To which, the hell I suffer seems a heav’n. _Paradise Lost, book 4._ Of the third branch, take the following samples. * * * * * Lucan, talking of Pompey’s sepulchre, ---- Romanum nomen, et omne Imperium Magno est tumuli modus. Obrue saxa Crimine plena deûm. Si tota est Herculis Oete, Et juga tota vacant Bromio Nyseia; quare Unus in Egypto Magno lapis? Omnia Lagi Rura tenere potest, si nullo cespite nomen Hæserit. Erremus populi, cinerumque tuorum, Magne, metu nullas Nili calcemus arenas. _L. 8. l. 798._ Thus in Rowe’s translation: Where there are seas, or air, or earth, or skies, Where-e’er Rome’s empire stretches, Pompey lies. Far be the vile memorial then convey’d! Nor let this stone the partial gods upbraid. Shall Hercules all Oeta’s heights demand, And Nysa’s hill for Bacchus only stand; While one poor pebble is the warrior’s doom That fought the cause of liberty and Rome? If fate decrees he must in Egypt lie, Let the whole fertile realm his grave supply, Yield the wide country to his awful shade,} Nor let us dare on any part to tread,} Fearful we violate the mighty dead.} The following passages are pure rant. Coriolanus speaking to his mother, What is this? Your knees to me? to your corrected son? Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach Fillop the stars: then let the mutinous winds Strike the proud cedars ’gainst the fiery sun: Murd’ring impossibility, to make What cannot be, slight work. _Coriolanus, act 5. sc. 3._ _Cæsar._---- Danger knows full well, That Cæsar is more dangerous than he. We were two lions litter’d in one day, And I the elder and more terrible. _Julius Cæsar, act 2. sc. 4._ _Almahide._ This day---- I gave my faith to him, he his to me. _Almanzor._ Good Heav’n, thy book of fate before me lay But to tear out the journal of this day. Or if the order of the world below,} Will not the gap of one whole day allow,} Give me that minute when she made that vow.} That minute ev’n the happy from their bliss might give, And those who live in grief a shorter time would live. So small a link if broke, th’ eternal chain Would like divided waters join again. _Conquest of Granada, act 3._