THE KING.

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.

They rode right out of the morning sun-
A glimmering, glittering cavalcade
Of knights and ladies, and every one
In princely sheen arrayed;

And the king of them all, O he rode ahead,
With a helmet of gold, and a plume of red
That spurted about in the breeze and bled
In the bloom of the everglade.

And they rode high over the dewy lawn,
With brave, glad banners of every hue
That rolled in ripples, as they rode on

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
As one at a wilful child,-

And as knight and lady away they flew,
And the banners flapped, and the falcon, too,
And the lances flashed and the bugle blew,
He kissed his hand and smiled -

And then, like a slanting sunlit shower,
The pageant glittered across the plain,
And the turf spun back, and the wildweed flower
Was only a crimson stain.

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,
more or less covered with high grass.
fal' con, a bird of prey trained to the
pursuit of other birds.
sheen, splendor; brightness.

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
For taking bribes here of the Sardians;
Wherein my letter, praying on his side,
Because I knew the man, was slighted off.

* 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,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.
Bru. The name of Cassius honors this corrup-

tion,

And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.

Cas.

Chastisement!

Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remem-
ber!

Did not great Julius bleed for justice sake?
What villain touch'd his body, that did stab,
And not for justice? What! shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world
But for supporting robbers,-shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
And sell the mighty space of our large honors
For so much trash as may be grasped thus?
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.

Cas.

Brutus, bay not me;

I'll not endure it: you forget yourself,
To hedge me in. I am a soldier, I,

Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.

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?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares ?

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?
Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humor? By the gods,
You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
Though it do split you; for from this day forth,
I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter,
When you are waspish.

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.