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diff --git a/old/62494-0.txt b/old/62494-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9abe3a2..0000000 --- a/old/62494-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,823 +0,0 @@ -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 62494 *** - -THE COVER DESIGN IS BY ELIHU VEDDER - - - - -UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME - - - LAODICE AND DANAË _Play in Verse_ - By _Gordon Bottomley_ - - IMAGES--OLD AND NEW _Poems_ - By _Richard Aldington_ - - THE ENGLISH TONGUE AND OTHER POEMS - By _Lewis Worthington Smith_ - - FIVE MEN AND POMPEY _Dramatic Portraits_ - By _Stephen Vincent Benét_ - - HORIZONS _Poems_ - By _Robert Alden Sanborn_ - - THE TRAGEDY _A Fantasy in Verse_ - By _Gilbert Moyle_ - - - - - FIVE MEN AND POMPEY - - _A Series of Dramatic Portraits_ - - BY - STEPHEN VINCENT BENÉT - - [Illustration] - - BOSTON - THE FOUR SEAS COMPANY - 1915 - - - - - _Copyright, 1915, by_ - THE FOUR SEAS COMPANY - - THE FOUR SEAS PRESS - BOSTON AND NORWOOD - - - - -CONTENTS - - - THE LAST BANQUET 9 - - LUCULLUS DINES-- 17 - - THE FORLORN CAMPAIGN 23 - - AD ATTICUM 31 - - DE BELLO CIVILI 37 - - AFTER PHARSALIA 45 - - - - -THE LAST BANQUET - - - - -THE LAST BANQUET - -[SERTORIUS SPEAKS. B. C. 72] - - - Twelve years! Twelve years of striving! and at last - My power is--secure? Still Pompey lives - And has an army and Metellus strives - To wipe out his defeats. The net is cast: - Cast, and draws ever tighter: and my men - Grumble and mutter, near to mutiny. - Perpenna stirs up treason: like a fen - Of black and quaking marshes, my own camp - Boils up all foulness, gapes to swallow me. - The black death-chariot waits, the coursers stamp-- - Yet I have made a law, have curbed the tribes, - Built up a senate, founded schools, withstood - For twelve long years the iron arm of Rome. - I have not spared my time, my gold, my blood. - And now all vanishes in plots and gibes-- - I love this warm, brown land; it is my home. - And yet--to see the Forum once again! - Ah, Nydia! Nydia! Had you not died - I could have crossed the Alps, have crushed these men, - These unclean vultures, tearing at Rome’s side; - I could have brought back the Republic--then. - You died. I still fight on, but I am old. - Pompey is young, and though I beat him now, - He will be victor, as the end will show. - Ah, Plancus, enter! Is the night so cold - That you need shroud yourself in that great cloak? - You too, Perpenna, Cimon, you who broke - So bravely through the foe, you fear a draught? - Be seated, friends! - - My comrades, we have laughed - And feasted for an hour together, yet - I have not told you why I summoned thus - My ten most trusted leaders to this feast. - Now is the time! I shall discharge the debt. - Glorious tidings come from out the East! - And Mithridates hurries aid to us-- - Let not that goblet fall I pray thee, friend!-- - Ah! Dog and traitor! So this was your end! - Guards! Guards!--I think you will not rise again, - Perpenna, from that blow! Guards! Ho there, men! - A-a-ah! Thank you, Pompey! No, you will not take - Me back to grace your triumph: they have done - Their work too well, your friends. My sands are run. - And you have burst all barriers left to break - That shielded the Republic. It is dead. - - Not with a pomp of banners, - Not with a flare of spears, - Not with mourning or head downcast - The great Republic dies at last; - A sword in the heart and the hands bound fast, - Dead in the wreck of the years! - - Pompey, Pompey, chief of pride, - Hero and lord of Rome! - You ride to a gallant triumph now, - Gay as the green and fruitful bough; - But the bough will be withered and dry enow - When you ride for the last time home! - - Pompey, Pompey, laugh while you may! - Laugh as Polycrates laughed! - But ever, when life is most glorious, - I bid you think of Sertorius, - Of how he rode forth victorious, - And how he was slain by craft. - - I have been slain by great lords; - But a slave shall strike you down, - A slave shall strike you down from behind, - And your strength shall fail, and your sight go blind, - And your body a nameless grave shall find, - You, that strove for a crown! - - Pompey, Pompey, turn where you may! - You shall get but little ease. - For whether on sea or whether on land, - One picture shall ever before you stand-- - A man struck down on a barren strand-- - A head hacked off by the seas! - - Pompey, Pompey, go where you will, - Double and turn again! - One thought shall you know till you lie in your grave; - A thought not even your soul can brave!-- - The thought of a mean and evil slave, - And a knife that was forged in Spain! - - So the Republic dies! and all my work - Is vain; the things I built are shattered now, - My task is done, the task I dared not shirk; - And I am very tired. Nydia, come! - Come as you came that day down the green walk, - The day I rode in triumph back to Rome, - After the Cimbri had been crushed--and talk, - Talk as we talked that day beside the pool, - Shadowed by ilex, where the golden hearts - Of lilies burned within the water cool,-- - Nydia! But she stays not, she departs! - The marble seat--you lifted up your face-- - I have fought long now. I am weary. Come! - Nydia! Nydia! and lead me home! - Home! How the Forum blazes in the sun! - The Roman faces and the kindly speech; - The melon-sellers, proffering to each - That comes, ripe, green-streaked melons--What! you shun - An old friend, Balbus? No! It was not I! - No! by the gods! I never gave consent - To those red days of massacre!----They cry! - Oh gods! they cry, cry, they are not yet dead! - They _will_ not die: they hurl upon my head - Curses and prayers! I hear them in my tent! - They are not dead! Oh gods! They are not dead! - I never gave consent! - - Still the time slips - And Nydia comes not. I am very tired. - The things are broken to which I aspired, - And you alone are left. Love! She is here - Nydia, Nydia.... - - - - -LUCULLUS DINES-- - - - - -LUCULLUS DINES-- - -[59 B. C.] - - - I dine in the Apollo room tonight, - With Cicero and Pompey! See to it! - - Cicero! Pompey! But ten years ago - Lucullus was the hero, Conqueror - Of Mithridates, Rescuer of Rome! - All’s Pompey now; he goes far--and has gone; - And, with it all, is just the honest, brave, - Young captain that I saw that hot, raw, day; - The first day of my shame. Oh gods, gods, gods! - Must Rome have always victories, victories, - Incredible conquests till the whole world reels, - And still thrust traps into my path until - I fall at last? - When Pompey came I knew. - Oh he was kind, quite kind, considerate - Of the old bitter man there who had failed, - Recalled without a triumph! He was kind - In all his splendid, conquering, strength and youth! - Yet, I had beaten Mithridates. So - Let the old lion growl through teeth once sharp! - This sordid squabble of a vulgar crowd - Of stiff patricians, ranting demagogues, - Serves well for others. I, I have my trees, - My cherries, rooted firm in Roman soil, - Shedding a delicate whiteness on the hills - When spring comes. A far greater triumph that - Than all my conquests. - Yes, they know me well, - These young men, “That old dragon on the hill, - Who gives such gorgeous dinners. Gods, his wines! - Fit for Apollo!” - Yes, an excellent host, - Learned in sauces, skilled in oysters, game; - Within whose heart no spark of ancient fire - Burns on.... Oh Power! Power! Once to lead - An army, once again, and see the thick - Rain of the Parthian arrows and the blaze - As forty brazen cohorts broke the foe! - The thin lines buckle, the black masses fly! - _Imperator Romanus!_ - No, Lucullus, - But the good host who--plants his cherry-trees! - - Love? I have loved once, once.... That awful day - We stormed in through the gates of Amisus.... - The loot-mad soldiers, howling, smote the town - Down in a mud of blood and dirt and wine, - Bodies and gold and priceless tapestries. - Half-mad I rushed to stop them, beat and struck; - I think they would have murdered me at once, - But that one drunkard yelled “The General! - Lower your swords, lads! Sir, we won this town! - You take your pleasures and let us take ours!” - I reeled into the blackness of an arch, - And saw before me, white-robed, laurel-crowned, - Just such a maiden as might once have danced - Along the friezes of the Parthenon; - A face like that on an old silver coin, - Demetrius sent me, clear-cut, beautiful - With all the burning beauty of the Greek. - Pure and serene her grey eyes gazed in mine.... - We spoke few words; what need to speak at all - When just our eyes told all we had to tell, - There in the soft, cool blackness, splashed with light - From the red pools of burning wine without? - - Few words. They chime like little silver bells - Within my heart now, or like trumpet blasts - Bear up my soul a little towards the gods. - - We had three years. She died before my fall. - - I thought of love as a crooked knife, - As a soft and passionate lord; - Born when the kings’ beards dipped in wine - And the gold cups clashed on the board. - But my love came like a blast of cold, - A straight, clean, sword. - - I thought of love as a secret thing, - For an hour of incensed ease, - When breast and breast together cling, - Under sweet-scented trees. - My love is all good-comradeship, - More great than these. - - I thought of love as a toy for a day, - Soon to be over-passed; - Light and frail as a hollow shell, - That into the brook is cast. - My love holds while the earth endures, - And the suns stand fast. - - I thought of love as mixed with earth, - One with the bloom of the sods. - My love is air and wine and fire, - Breaker of metes and rods, - A slender javelin tipped with light, - Hurled at the gods. - - Life lies before me like a platter of coins. - “Here are the new ones! Mark the choice design!” - All cry: for me the others fade and dim, - And one alone shines clear, an old Greek coin - Demetrius sent me ... and that lovely face.... - - Pompey would say that I am growing old, - And Cicero would turn a phrase with me - In his next great oration, as a type - Of the old fool who mumbles of days past. - - Meanwhile I have my orchards--and my feasts. - Those turbot now; the sauce is very good, - A peacock’s breast is good, too, at this time, - With other things, as----old Falernian, - Tarentine oysters, and sweet wines from Thrace.... - - Tarentine oysters and sweet wines from Thrace. - - - - -THE FORLORN CAMPAIGN - - - - -THE FORLORN CAMPAIGN - -[CRASSUS IN PARTHIA. B. C. 53] - - - Go then, Valerius. Let the legions know, - That I will answer this new embassy - Within the hour.... They will mutiny, - If I refuse these terms.... What shall I do? - _What shall I do?_ The trap is plain enough - To me; but they, they only see the rough, - Long road and the red, ever-circling cloud - Of horsemen, raining arrows on them there. - Gods! And the mountains are so near, so near! - Scarce three days march ... that we shall never make. - - I boasted once. The gods like not the proud. - And I shall die in this red waste of sand, - Though my heart tremble and my stiff limbs shake. - A thousand slaves bowed down at my command; - I lived in ivory palaces of delight; - I ruled an empire ... here is all my might; - An old and wearied man in a bare tent, - Whence, presently, I shall go out to die. - - How they will rage at Rome! Each will outvie - The next in fury: none will dare lament. - Caesar will listen with a little smile, - A smile like two blue ice-cliffs as they part, - Slow-rising from the deep caves of his heart. - Pompey will bow his great gold head awhile, - And say, “He died a Roman. It is well.” - Perhaps be sad, a little. For the rest, - That yelping pack of nobles, they will howl - How, “Crassus was a madman at the best, - And in this last attempt, a blind old owl, - A drink-crazed miser with a wooden sword. - He blundered here and here! His whole campaign - Was one great blunder!” So with one accord, - They howl. - To praise is hard, easy to damn. - I failed in this. Some other will succeed. - - Yet they are right, in part. That day, far back, - When by the borderline I checked my steed.... - Our spies had said the Parthian army lay - Encamped near by and ready for the fray. - We found no army; nothing but a track, - Thousands of footprints stamped in the red sand, - Where a great host had passed. A sudden fear - Seized on the legions and on every hand - The men shrank back.... No foe stood anywhere, - Nothing but scarlet sand and brassy sky, - And men aghast at signs traced on the ground, - A ring of white, scared faces, without sound. - - Then afterwards, there came that burning march - Under a sky of flame, continually. - Our very armor seemed to shrink and parch - Beneath that sun; our tongues grew swelled and black; - And ever circling, circling, front and back, - The Parthians galloped in a cloud of dust. - They would not turn and fight but slew us thus. - Their bitter arrows came like hail on us. - Our strongest dropped and died without a blow. - Then, beyond Carrhæ, trusting in our woe, - They turned at last and stood to wait our thrust. - But two things I remember of that fight. - How Publius went out--the burning light - Smote on his armor, turning it to gold, - Save where, a sunset cloud, his red cloak rolled; - And in his face was joy and keen delight, - Youth and a boy’s high heart and great resolves.... - A golden knight he stood, a golden knight.... - He rides away, the crimson cloud dissolves.... - - One other picture burns within my brain, - Like white-hot sand; and will burn now until - I go into the trap tonight.... Again - The dust cloud rose, and from a little hill - I saw the sheen of spearheads at its rim, - And near the rim a spot of black that grew, - Grew, grew, till earth and sky alike were dim; - For there was nought but it in earth and sky.... - Nought but a black, dead, face ... a face I knew.... - The lips were bloody ... down upon the pike - Dripped long slow drops like tears.... I hear them now, - Gathering, hanging.... Gods! they strike and strike!... - Dripping forever on my naked heart.... - Great tears of blood.... Once, very long ago, - I had a son.... How glad he seemed to start - On that attack!... No ... no ... I shall go mad! - I must not think how glad he was!... how glad.... - - We fell back towards the mountains. Cassius took - Another way. He may be slain or safe, - I know not; for myself, my legious chafe - And mutiny, I die here. But as I look - So close to death, I see that what I strove - To do will yet be done and Rome shall rule - Forever o’er the bloody road I clove. - I break ... but she will find another tool. - - Ere the first sword was sharpened and the first trumpet blown - Rome looked upon the new-made lands and marked them for her own! - Ere the first ship was timbered and the first rudder hung - Rome held the oceans in her hands, splendid and stern and young! - - The wild tribes bend before her, the kings are overthrown, - The purple empires of the East before her feet fall down. - From strange barbaric countries her captains bring her spoil, - Treasures of gems and ivory, spices and wines and oil. - - Wheat grows for her in Egypt; for her the Greek scribes write, - For her the diver dares the shark, the fowler scales the height, - To feed her great arenas the bold beast-tamer quakes - Among the tawny lions or the hissing pits of snakes. - - Her legions march in Asia, they tramp through Farthest Gaul, - In Greece their horns blow up the dawn, in Spain they stand a wall. - And still upon her Seven Hills Rome rules the seas and tides, - The earth and all that in it is, while that stern strength abides. - - Hail for the last time, Mother! Your sons stand here at bay. - Still you have sons for conquest. We fall the Roman way! - Our cheers still ringing, our short swords drawn, - We die here singing, but Rome, Rome goes on! - - Ah! Yes, Valerius, I will answer them. - - Comrades! I know these terms are but a trap: - Yet I would rather die by Parthian swords - Than Roman. - After I am dead push on, - Straight to the mountains; once the heights are won, - You can defy at last these swarming hordes. - Break camp at once to guard against mishap. - Farewell! Valerius is your general now.... - - Up there, you say, upon that hillock’s brow - They wait?... Yes, I can see the glint of steel.... - - - - -AD ATTICUM - - - - -AD ATTICUM - -[CICERO. 48 B. C.] - - - How hot it is! Faint waves of heat steam up - From the burnt sand without, like threads of glass, - Blurring the vision. In the dark, cool rooms - Within, all are asleep, and not a sound - Breaks the tense stillness.... Why should I not sleep? - This letter here, to Atticus, can wait.... - No! I had better write it now, this court - Is cool enough, the plashing fountain pleasant, - Stylus and tablets on the table there.... - Let me begin!... Where did I buy this style? - Oh yes, at Patras, where we had to leave - Poor Tiro sick--well, he is better now-- - And, Jupiter be thanked! I have escaped - Safely from that accursed province! Gods! - Now, even now, the names ring in my brain, - The petty lawsuits which I must adjudge, - The protests from the people, stricken down - Under a shameful load of usury, - Oppressed by every Roman thief that crept - Into some petty office. Gods, those trials! - They made me old before my time. That case - Between Valerius and Volusius! - And Brutus, the immaculate, with his interest - Of forty-eight per cent! - What shall I say - To Atticus? “Caesar and I are friends.” - Or, “Next week I shall sail from Formia - And seek out Pompey.” - There they stand, gouged plain - On the smooth wax. I rub them both out--so! - - Caesar, which shall I write? I was your friend. - Pompey has helped me always. Over all - Stands Rome. This war I hate as I hate Hell, - And yet must take one side.... You made the war, - Caesar ... and the Republic perishes, - If you are victor.... That one fact ends all. - Rome will be better ruled? There’s something more - Than better rule, something for which men die. - May I have grace to die so at the end, - Grace to pursue my vision to the last, - Though all my body is one sweat of blood; - Grace to reach up and touch her garment’s hem - And see her smile down in that last, black place - Where the swords fall. I shall be happy then. - All heaven and earth will be repaid to me, - In that one glance, before the swords sweep down. - - Life is a dream and a rapture, life is a voice and a breath, - A gust of wind and a darkness, puffed in the face of Death, - Life is a treacherous river, a house that sinks in the sand, - A gift that poisons the giver, a ring that withers the hand. - - Yet, when a man is mighty, that dream is more than the truth, - That wailing wind in the darkness more bright than the fires of youth, - The ring gives wisdom and power, the house stands up like a rock, - The river roars from the mountains, and his foemen reel at its shock. - - These are our mighty fellows, we are akin to these, - The men who burn on the deserts, who drown in the pathless seas, - Not for gold or for power or gems some king has thieved, - But simply to follow a vision, to see a dream achieved! - - So, though we stand beleaguered, though the foe comes on like the sea, - Though slaves fall down as he passes, and helot bend at his knee, - Though there is no escaping, though the last hope is gone, - Here in the sight of all men we buckle our armor on! - - Whatever chances, Tullia is safe; - I only risk myself ... and so, at last, - I shall begin my letter ... yet I wonder - If, after this, I shall see Formia - Ever again.... No need to think of that! - Tullia will be safe ... and Atticus; - But, for the rest--I have lost many friends - Already.... Bah! Come, let me get to work!... - Tullia will be safe.... Hail, Atticus! - - - - -DE BELLO CIVILI - - - - -DE BELLO CIVILI - -[CAESAR. 49 B. C.] - - - More letters? Lay them down here. - Antony, - Curio, Cicero--even Atticus-- - Well, what does Antony say, “Strike quick and hard! - March your picked Gauls on Rome!” H’m? “All the city - Is gone stark mad against you.” Oh, of course! - “At the next meeting of the Senate”? Ah! - “I will suggest both you and Pompey lay - Aside your several commands.” All hangs - On that one offer--If they should refuse, - I strike at last!... - Well, Curio, “Dare you not - Give up the provinces? All would be well. - It is the one thing Pompey now demands-- - Impossible of course--” Gods, Curio! - “Give up the provinces”! For twenty years - I have toiled up this hill--and now at last - Stand here, proconsul of a barren land, - A swarming, seething pot of plots and lies, - Where every day brings forth a fresh revolt. - Others had rich lands in the peaceful East, - They fought with armies, I a people. Now, - After nine years these Gauls are not subdued. - I stand alone against a forest fire ... - But even this they will not suffer, no, - Not even that I waste my life in vain - In these vast woods. They call me to return, - “A private citizen as Pompey did.” - No, to return disgraced, shut out forever - From all great deeds.... - What say you, Cicero? - “I know you do not want a civil war.” - H’m. “Rome mistaken--.” H’m. “Why should you care - For all these dogs that bark at great men’s heels? - You say your foes are wrong--It may be so, - At least they act with one thought in their minds, - That you wish civil war for your own ends. - Why not disprove them, strike them dumb, resign - Your provinces!” and let them cut my throat! - “Return to Rome a citizen. That one act - Would make you just--immortal, and they, they, - Would shrink back to their holes, never again - To dare the splendor of the day and truth. - Pompey is not against you. Him I know. - And he would be as generous a friend - As you could wish--resign his legions too--” - Ah, Cicero!--What’s this, here at the end? - “Remember the Republic! Caesar, Caesar! - Gaze not in that Medusa’s face. Your soul - Stands here at stake, you hold the fate of Rome - In your two hands. Gaze not in that dread face!” - - Another letter! What ... from Calinus ... - How our lives part ... and men part.... Why the last - Time that I saw him was ... how long ago ... - Ten ... twenty years ... on the white walls of Rhodes - We talked that evening on the flat, wide roof - Of the old merchant’s house where he was lodged. - I was to leave tomorrow, and we lay - Under the blazing stars. A brown slave girl - Plucked at a lute whose drowsy murmur died - Throbbingly into sweetness.... We were young - And all our gorgeous dreams marched forth in state - Past the great purple bales of Syrian rugs, - Over the thin brown frails of dates, until - The skies were full of color, great broad bands ... - Crimson like pigeon’s blood, blue like the sea, - Yellow like old, old ivory.... The stars waned. - Next day we parted. Friend, friend of my youth, - What have you now to say? Today I make - The last decision, take one course of two, - Be saved or lost ... friend ... friend ... friend of my youth.... - - “Caesar, the swords are ready, - The swords you have tempered long, - War and peace are held in your hand, - You stand at length where you longed to stand; - By civil war you would heal a land, - And by wrong you would better a wrong. - - Power and Strength and Empire, - These are full mighty words. - One thing, men’s Freedom, is higher than all. - And better a hut though it totter and fall, - A broken temple, a ruined wall, - Than a land subdued by your swords! - - We have walked for a time together. - The roads fork and we part. - I follow my Lady of beauty and grace, - Drunk with the light of her glorious face, - And you, you go to your own place: - And a poison breeds in your heart. - - I go with the Republic. - The Empire stands by your side. - You love her now. In a time not far - You will look in your heart where your dead hopes are, - And curse her for a lamia, - The serpent you called bride. - - We part. Our ways are far henceforth. - Henceforth our speech is with spears, - I curse you not. Strive on for your prize - Till the last thick darkness covers your eyes - And the voice of the dead Republic cries - Forever in your ears. - - Follow your foe o’er land and sea, - River and bush and stone! - When the end has come to the weary race - And the slain man lies in his fated place, - You shall draw the veil from the white dead face, - And shriek, knowing your own!” - - Calinus ... Calinus ... To be saved or lost.... - What! Curio and Antony are without? - Curio! Antony! Welcome!... What ... you say - They drove you from the Senate?... I must make - Decision now.... - Comrades! The die is cast! - We march tomorrow on Ariminum! - - - - -AFTER PHARSALIA - - - - -AFTER PHARSALIA - -[POMPEY. 48 B. C.] - - - So it is over; you have won at last, - And our long struggle ends and with it Rome, - The Rome that was the glory of the past, - Whose stripped fleets ruled the seas, shaking the foam - From their proud prows. They brought a freedom then. - Freedom and the Republic. Once. No more. - - Well, it was fated, my most trusted men - Failed me at need; as your chiefs will fail you, - O Caesar! You I neither fear nor hate. - We strove not with each other but with fate. - Your followers will ruin what you do; - Since you are honest, and will strive to make - New laws and found an Empire, which, at least, - Gives Justice equally to all. The stake - Is high. They have sat long now at their feast, - With Rome their pig-trough. They will conquer you; - A hundred dwarfs, pulling a giant down. - The problem is too great, the time not ripe - For its solution. - We have fought, we two! - For the Republic I, you for your crown, - Each one of his own cause the very type. - Though both of us have failed, your cause yet rules, - Your Empire. - Any fool can govern fools. - To make fools rule themselves and do it well, - That is the task. If you could rule forever, - Caesar ... but little men will seize your work, - Your great machine. There’s where the paths dissever! - And Rome roars blindly down amid the murk - To swift destruction.... - Still one chance remains - Where my disbanded legions fill the plains - Of Egypt. A bare chance. If that fails too, - Why, “Here lies Cnæus Pompey, called the Great, - He fought for the Republic, loved his wife, - And climbed the ladder of swords that men call Life.” - - Stretching straight from the viewless Pit, - To the skies that are shamed because of it, - Lit with a blue and hungry fire, - That blasts like the breath of fulfilled Desire, - Glory and Shame in its secret hoards, - It stands supreme, the Ladder of Swords! - - _You must climb it?_ Aye, with all men born! - _When?_ When you reel from the common scorn, - When utter Defeat has gripped you fast, - And your life goes down in the dark at last; - When the things you builded dissolve like mist, - And Love has broken his faith and tryst, - And your body strains at the torturers’ cords, - You have come at last to the Ladder of Swords! - - _Will you find a friend?_ One friend alone, - Flesh of your flesh and bone of your bone, - The last strange Courage that mocks Despair, - That hunts the wolf with the wounded hare, - That throws your life in the jaws of death - To snatch it back in a single breath. - Blinded no longer by pomp and words, - You shall go up stark to the Ladder of Swords! - - Though your torn feet slip on the bloody steel, - Though your body faint and your senses reel, - Dizzied with agony, blind and numb, - You shall crawl the rungs till the end is come; - Though the sun flare out and the heavens crack, - Nor god nor devil can turn you back! - This is the prize that Defeat accords! - Courage! Courage! The Ladder of Swords! - - Yes, by the gods! Caesar, the day is yours, - You rule the world--while you debauch the State. - Yet, somewhere, beyond all, there still endures, - That pure Republic: and its white walls shine, - Proudly, a dream no conquests can dispel. - Your hosts toil uselessly; no force can take - Those walls. Your legionaries break and break, - In vain. Ever, before each bleeding line, - It rises still, the Vision Invincible! - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 62494 *** |