File:The International library of famous literature - selections from the world's great writers, ancient, mediaeval, and modern, with biographical and explanatory notes and with introductions (1898) (14597687488).jpg

Identifier: internationallib02lang (find matches)
Title: The International library of famous literature : selections from the world's great writers, ancient, mediaeval, and modern, with biographical and explanatory notes and with introductions
Year: 1898 (1890s)
Authors: Lang, Andrew, 1844-1912 Mitchell, Donald Grant, 1822-1908
Subjects: Literature
Publisher: New York Merrill and Baker
Contributing Library: Internet Archive
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

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he favored exceptthe extravagant Dinocrates, with his colossal imaginings,which seem rather the dreams of a flatterer than the con-ceptions of an artist; and yet we shall find that there wereyounger artists in his day, worthy, if any ever were, of hispatronage. THE DYING GLADIATOR. By LORD BYRON. The seal is set. — Now welcome thou dread power! Nameless, yet thus omnipotent, which hereWalkst in the shadow of the midnight hour, With a deep awe, yet all distinct from fear;Thy haunts are ever where the dead walls rear Their ivy mantles, and the solemn sceneDerives from thee a sense so deep and clear, That we become a part of what has been, And grow unto the spot, all seeing but unseen. And here the buzz of eager nations ran In murmured pity, or loud roared applause, As man was slaughtered by his fellow-man. And wherefore slaughtered ? wherefore, but because Such were the bloody circus genial laws,And the imperial pleasure. — Wherefore not ? What matters where we fall to fill the maws
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- o THE DEFEAT OF THE GALATIAN& 779 Of worms — on battle plains or listed spot ?Both are but theaters where chief actors rot. I see before me the Gladiator die : He leans upon his hand — his manly browConsents to death, hut conquers agony; And his drooped head sinks gradually low;And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, tall heavy, one by one,Like the first of a thundershower; and now The arena swims around him — he is gone Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch whowon. He heard it, but he heeded not — his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away;He recked not of the life he lost, nor prize, But where his rade hut by the Danube lay —There were his young barbarians all at play; There was their Dacian mother — he, their sire,Butchered to make a Roman holiday: All this rushed with his blood. — Shall he expire, And unavenged ? — Arise ! ye Goths, and glut your ire! THE DEFEAT OF THE GALATIANS. By PAUSANIAS. (Pacsania9 liv

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