No More Learning

_Stran. _ I have no power
To promise that; but you may try, and find it
Easier in such a form--or in your own.

_Arn. _ No. I was not born for philosophy,
Though I have that about me which has need on't.
Let him fleet on.

_Stran. _ Be air, thou Hemlock-drinker! 230
[_The shadow of Socrates disappears: another rises_.

_Arn. _ What's here? whose broad brow and whose curly beard
And manly aspect look like Hercules,[215]
Save that his jocund eye hath more of Bacchus
Than the sad purger of the infernal world,
Leaning dejected on his club of conquest,[216]
As if he knew the worthlessness of those
For whom he had fought.

_Stran. _ It was the man who lost
The ancient world for love.

_Arn.
_ I cannot blame him,
Since I have risked my soul because I find not
That which he exchanged the earth for.

_Stran. _ Since so far 240
You seem congenial, will you wear his features?

_Arn. _ No. As you leave me choice, I am difficult.
If but to see the heroes I should ne'er
Have seen else, on this side of the dim shore,
Whence they float back before us.

_Stran. _ Hence, Triumvir,
Thy Cleopatra's waiting.
[_The shade of Antony disappears: another rises_.

_Arn. _ Who is this?
Who truly looketh like a demigod,
Blooming and bright, with golden hair, and stature,
If not more high than mortal, yet immortal
In all that nameless bearing of his limbs, 250
Which he wears as the Sun his rays--a something
Which shines from him, and yet is but the flashing
Emanation of a thing more glorious still.
Was _he e'er human only? _[217]

_Stran. _ Let the earth speak,
If there be atoms of him left, or even
Of the more solid gold that formed his urn.