LAVINIA.
315
As her cruelty is excused by the excess of sufferings which she endured, so the harlot-like looseness with which she abandons herself to a disgusting negro is to a degree ennobled by the romantic poetry which is manifested in it. Yes, that scene in which the Empress, having left her cortège during a hunt, finds herself alone in the wood with her beloved black, belongs to the most terribly sweet magic pictures of romantic poetry—
"My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou sad,
When everything doth make a gleeful boast?
The birds chaunt melody on every bush;
The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun;
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind,
And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground:
Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit,
And, whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds,
Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns,
As if a double hunt were heard at once,
Let us sit down and mark their yelling noise;
And,—after conflict, such as was suppos'd
The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy'd,
When with a happy storm they were surpris'd,
And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave,—
We may, each wreathed in the other's arms,
Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber;
Whiles hounds, and horns, and sweet melodious birds,
Be unto ts, as is a nurse's song
Of lullaby, to bring her babe to sleep."[1]
When everything doth make a gleeful boast?
The birds chaunt melody on every bush;
The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun;
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind,
And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground:
Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit,
And, whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds,
Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns,
As if a double hunt were heard at once,
Let us sit down and mark their yelling noise;
And,—after conflict, such as was suppos'd
The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy'd,
When with a happy storm they were surpris'd,
And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave,—
We may, each wreathed in the other's arms,
Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber;
Whiles hounds, and horns, and sweet melodious birds,
Be unto ts, as is a nurse's song
Of lullaby, to bring her babe to sleep."[1]
- ↑ Titus Andronicus, act ii. sc. 3.
