THE KING. JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY. They rode right out of the morning sun- And the king of them all, O he rode ahead, And they rode high over the dewy lawn, In splendor, two and two; And the tinkling links of the golden reins Of the steeds they rode rang such refrains . As the castanets in a dream of Spain's Intensest gold and blue. And they rode and rode; and the steeds they neighed And pranced, and the sun on their glossy hides Flickered and lightened and glanced and played Like the moon on rippling tides; And their manes were silken, and thick and strong, And their tails were flossy, and fetlock-long, And jostled in time to the teeming throng, And the knightly song besides. Clank of scabbard and jingle of spur, And the fluttering sash of the queen went wild In the wind, and the proud king glanced at her And as knight and lady away they flew, And then, like a slanting sunlit shower, And a dreamer's eyes they are downward cast, As he blends these words with the wailing blast: "It is the King of the Year rides past!" And Autumn is here again. cas' ta nets, two small concave shells fastened to the thumb and beaten together with the middle finger. cav' al cade', a procession on horseback. ev' er glade, a low, marshy region, BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. WILLIAM SHAKSPERE. "(From "Julius Cæsar.") (ACT IV, SCENE III. Within the tent of Brutus. LUCILIUS* and TITINIUS at some distance from it. Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS.) Cassius. That you have wrong'd me doth appear in this: You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella * See "Julius Cæsar," edited by William J. Rolfe, page 169, note 50. Brutus. You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case. Cas. In such a time as this it is not meet That every nice offence should bear his comment. Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm, To sell and mart your offices for gold To undeservers. Cas. I an itching palm? You know that you are Brutus that speaks this, tion, And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. Cas. Chastisement! Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remem- Did not great Julius bleed for justice sake? Cas. Brutus, bay not me; I'll not endure it: you forget yourself, Older in practice, abler than yourself Bru. Go to; you are not, Cassius. Cas. I am. Bru. I say you are not. Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further. Bru. Away, slight man! Cas. Is't possible? Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash choler? Cas. O ye gods, ye gods! must I endure all this? Bru. All this? Ay, more. Fret till your proud heart break; Go show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Cas. Is it come to this? Bru. You say you are a better soldier: Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well. For mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men. Cas. You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus ; I said an elder soldier, not a better: Did I say better? Bru. If you did, I care not. Cas. When Cæsar liv'd he durst not thus have mov'd me. |