LIFE OF FENTON.
xv
The observation which Herod makes upon this is very affecting. The poet has drawn him so tortured with his passion, that he seems almost sufficiently punished for the barbarity of cutting off the father and brother of Mariamne.
Herod. Where's the monarch now?
The vulgar call us gods, and fondly think
That kings are cast in more than mortal moulds.
Alas! they little know that when the mind
Is cloy'd with pomp, our taste is pall'd to joy,
But grows more sensible of grief or pain.
The stupid peasant with as quick a sense
Enjoys the fragrance of a rose as I;
And his rough hand is proof against the thorn,
Which rankling in my tender skin would seem
A viper's tooth. Oh, blissful poverty!
Nature, too partial, to thy lot assigns
Health, freedom, innocence, and downy peace,
Her real goods; and only mocks the great
With empty pageantries. Had I been born
A cottager, my homely bowl had flow'd
Secure from pois'nous drugs; but not my wife!
Let me, good Heav'n! forget that guilty name,
Or madness will ensue.
The vulgar call us gods, and fondly think
That kings are cast in more than mortal moulds.
Alas! they little know that when the mind
Is cloy'd with pomp, our taste is pall'd to joy,
But grows more sensible of grief or pain.
The stupid peasant with as quick a sense
Enjoys the fragrance of a rose as I;
And his rough hand is proof against the thorn,
Which rankling in my tender skin would seem
A viper's tooth. Oh, blissful poverty!
Nature, too partial, to thy lot assigns
Health, freedom, innocence, and downy peace,
Her real goods; and only mocks the great
With empty pageantries. Had I been born
A cottager, my homely bowl had flow'd
Secure from pois'nous drugs; but not my wife!
Let me, good Heav'n! forget that guilty name,
Or madness will ensue.
Some critics have blamed Mariamne for yielding her affections to Herod, who had embrued his hands in her father and brother's blood: in this, perhaps, she cannot be easily defended; but the poet had a right to represent this as he literally found it in history, and being the circumstance upon which all the others depended. Though this play is one of the most beautiful in our language, yet it is in many places exposed
