"
Emily's eyes filled with fresh-gushing dew. "Speak on, speak ever thus,
my George," she exclaimed. Barnwell's chains rattled as the confiding
girl clung to him. Even Snoggin, the turnkey appointed to sit with the
Prisoner, was affected by his noble and appropriate language, and also
burst into tears.
"You weep, my Snoggin," the Boy said; "and why? Hath Life been so
charming to me that I should wish to retain it? hath Pleasure no
after-Weariness? Ambition no Deception; Wealth no Care; and Glory no
Mockery? Psha! I am sick of Success, palled of Pleasure, weary of Wine
and Wit, and--nay, start not, my Adelaide--and Woman. I fling away all
these things as the Toys of Boyhood. Life is the Soul's Nursery. I am
a Man, and pine for the Illimitable! Mark you me! Has the Morrow any
terrors for me, think ye? Did Socrates falter at his poison? Did Seneca
blench in his bath? Did Brutus shirk the sword when his great stake was
lost? Did even weak Cleopatra shrink from the Serpent's fatal nip? And
why should I? My great Hazard hath been played, and I pay my forfeit.
Lie sheathed in my heart, thou flashing Blade! Welcome to my Bosom, thou
faithful Serpent; I hug thee, peace-bearing Image of the Eternal!
Ha, the hemlock cup! Fill high, boy, for my soul is thirsty for
the Infinite! Get ready the bath, friends; prepare me for the feast
To-morrow--bathe my limbs in odors, and put ointment in my hair.
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