"George Gordon, Lord Byron. The deformed transformed " - читать интересную книгу автора

Such my command!
Demons heroic-
Demons who wore
The form of the Stoic
Or sophist of yore-

Or the shape of each victor-
From Macedon's boy,
To each high Roman's picture,
Who breathed to destroy-
Shadows of Beauty!
Shadows of Power!
Up to your duty-
This is the hour!
[Various phantoms arise from the waters, and pass in succession
before the Stranger and Arnold.

Arn.
What do I see?

Stran.
The black-eyed Roman, with
The eagle's beak between those eyes which ne'er
Beheld a conqueror, or looked along
The land he made not Rome's, while Rome became
His, and all theirs who heired his very name.

Arn.
The phantom 's bald; my quest is beauty. Could I
Inherit but his fame with his defects!

Stran.
His brow was girt with laurels more than hairs.
You see his aspect-choose it, or reject.
I can but promise you his form; his fame
Must be long sought and fought for.

Arn.
I will fight, too,
But not as a mock Caesar. Let him pass:
His aspect may be fair, but suits me not.

Stran.
Then you are far more difficult to please
Than Cato's sister, or than Brutus's mother,
Or Cleopatra at sixteen-an age
When love is not less in the eye than heart.
But be it so! Shadow, pass on!
[The phantom of Julius Caesar disappears.