HERNANI. Thy words are music, and thy strain of love Is borrowed from the choir of heaven above. DONNA SOL. Night is too silent, darkness too profound Oh, for a star to shine, a voice to sound-- To raise some sudden note of music now Suited to night. HERN. Capricious girl! your vow Was poured for silence, and to be released From the thronged tumult of the marriage feast. DONNA SOL. Yes; but one bird to carol in the field,-- A nightingale, in mossy shade concealed,-- A distant flute,--for music's stream can roll To soothe the heart, and harmonize the soul,-- O! 'twould be bliss to listen. [_Distant sound of a horn, the signal that_ HERNANI _must go to_ DON RUY, _who, having saved his life, had him bound in a vow to yield it up._] LORD F. LEVESON GOWER (1ST EARL OF ELLESMERE). CROMWELL AND THE CROWN. _("Ah! je le tiens enfin.")_ [CROMWELL, Act II., October, 1827.] THURLOW _communicates the intention of Parliament to offer_ CROMWELL _the crown_. CROMWELL. And is it mine? And have my feet at length Attained the summit of the rock i' the sand? THURLOW. And yet, my lord, you have long reigned. CROM. Nay, nay! Power I have 'joyed, in sooth, but not the name. Thou smilest, Thurlow. Ah, thou little know'st What hole it is Ambition digs i' th' heart What end, most seeming empty, is the mark For which we fret and toil and dare! How hard With an unrounded fortune to sit down! Then, what a lustre from most ancient times Heaven has flung o'er the sacred head of kings! King--Majesty--what names of power! No king, And yet the world's high arbiter! The thing Without the word! no handle to the blade! Away--the empire and the name are one! Alack! thou little dream'st how grievous 'tis, Emerging from the crowd, and at the top Arrived, to feel that there is _something_ still Above our heads; something, nothing! no matter-- That word is everything. LEITCH RITCHIE. MILTON'S APPEAL TO CROMWELL. _("Non! je n'y puis tenir.")_ [CROMWELL, Act III. sc. iv.]