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Our fee we get without delay They instantly Jack-Ketch us. One draught upon the road of liquor bright and clear, And hip! hip! hip; hurrah! we're seen no longer here! From The Robbers, act iv. scene 5. BRUTUS. Ye are welcome, peaceful realms of light! Oh, receive Rome's last-surviving son! From Philippi, from the murderous fight, Come I now, my race of sorrow run. Cassius, where art thou?
I cannot but see degeneracy, and with every age a step further from ancient truth: Rome with less light than Greece; the Sassanians a feebble copy of the Achaemenians: knowledge of the Realities receding ever into the past. A new spirit had been coming in since the beginning of the Christian era, or since the living flame of the last-surviving Mysteries was quenched.
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