[ARNOLD _falls senseless; his soul passes into the shape of Achilles, which rises from the ground; while the phantom has disappeared, part by part, as the figure was formed from the earth_.
_Arn._ (_in his new form_). I love, and I shall be beloved! Oh, life!
At last I feel thee! Glorious Spirit!
_Stran._ Stop!
What shall become of your abandoned garment, Yon hump, and lump, and clod of ugliness, Which late you wore, or were?
_Arn._ Who cares? Let wolves And vultures take it, if they will.
_Stran._ And if They do, and are not scared by it, you'll say It must be peace-time, and no better fare Abroad i' the fields.
_Arn._ Let us but leave it there; No matter what becomes on't.
_Stran._ That's ungracious; 430 If not ungrateful. Whatsoe'er it be, It hath sustained your soul full many a day.
_Arn._ Aye, as the dunghill may conceal a gem Which is now set in gold, as jewels should be.
_Stran._ But if I give another form, it must be By fair exchange, not robbery. For they[223]
Who make men without women's aid have long Had patents for the same, and do not love Your Interlopers. The Devil may take men,[dd]
Not make them,--though he reap the benefit 440 Of the original workmanship:--and therefore Some one must be found to assume the shape You have quitted.
_Arn._ Who would do so?
_Stran._ That I know not, And therefore I must.
_Arn._ You!
_Stran._ I said it ere You inhabited your present dome of beauty.
_Arn._ True. I forget all things in the new joy Of this immortal change.
_Stran._ In a few moments I will be as you were, and you shall see Yourself for ever by you, as your shadow.
_Arn._ I would be spared this.
_Stran._ But it cannot be. 450 What! shrink already, being what you are, From seeing what you were?
_Arn._ Do as thou wilt.
_Stran._ (_to the late form of_ ARNOLD, _extended on the earth_).
Clay! not dead, but soul-less!
Though no man would choose thee, An Immortal no less Deigns not to refuse thee.
Clay thou art; and unto spirit All clay is of equal merit.
Fire! _without_ which nought can live; Fire! but _in_ which nought can live, 460 Save the fabled salamander, Or immortal souls, which wander, Praying what doth not forgive, Howling for a drop of water, Burning in a quenchless lot: Fire! the only element Where nor fish, beast, bird, nor worm, Save the Worm which dieth not, Can preserve a moment's form, But must with thyself be blent: 470 Fire! man's safeguard and his slaughter: Fire! Creation's first-born Daughter, And Destruction's threatened Son, When Heaven with the world hath done: Fire! assist me to renew Life in what lies in my view Stiff and cold!
His resurrection rests with me and you!
One little, marshy spark of flame--[224]
And he again shall seem the same; 480 But I his Spirit's place shall hold!
[_An ignis-fatuus flits through the wood and rests on the brow of the body. The Stranger disappears: the body rises_.
_Arn._ (_in his new form_). Oh! horrible!
_Stran._ (_in_ ARNOLD'S _late shape_). What! tremblest thou?
_Arn._ Not so-- I merely shudder. Where is fled the shape Thou lately worest?
_Stran._ To the world of shadows.
But let us thread the present. Whither wilt thou?
_Arn._ Must thou be my companion?
_Stran._ Wherefore not?
Your betters keep worse company.
_Arn._ _My_ betters!
_Stran._ Oh! you wax proud, I see, of your new form: I'm glad of that. Ungrateful too! That's well; You improve apace;--two changes in an instant, 490 And you are old in the World's ways already.
But bear with me: indeed you'll find me useful Upon your pilgrimage. But come, pronounce Where shall we now be errant?
_Arn._ Where the World Is thickest, that I may behold it in Its workings.
_Stran._ That's to say, where there is War And Woman in activity. Let's see!
Spain--Italy--the new Atlantic world[225]-- Afric with all its Moors. In very truth, There is small choice: the whole race are just now 500 Tugging as usual at each other's hearts.
_Arn._ I have heard great things of Rome.
_Stran._ A goodly choice-- And scarce a better to be found on earth, Since Sodom was put out. The field is wide too; For now the Frank, and Hun, and Spanish scion Of the old Vandals, are at play along The sunny shores of the World's garden.
_Arn._ How Shall we proceed?
_Stran._ Like gallants, on good coursers.
What, ho! my chargers! Never yet were better, Since Phaeton was upset into the Po[226]. 510 Our pages too!
_Enter two Pages, with four coal-black horses_.
_Arn._ A noble sight!
_Stran._ And of A nobler breed. Match me in Barbary, Or your Kochlini race of Araby[de][227], With these!
_Arn._ The mighty steam, which volumes high From their proud nostrils, burns the very air; And sparks of flame, like dancing fire-flies wheel Around their manes, as common insects swarm Round common steeds towards sunset.
_Stran._ Mount, my lord: They and I are your servitors.
_Arn._ And these Our dark-eyed pages--what may be their names? 520
_Stran._ You shall baptize them.
_Arn._ What! in holy water?