University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE ELEVENTH.

Officer. Octavius. Mecænas. Gallus.
Officer.
News! glorious news! news certain! Dead as Death!

Octavius.
Who dead?

Officer.
The master of the horse to Julius,
Master too, but this morning, of this realm,
The great . .

Mecænas.
Halt there! and know, where Cæsar is
There is none great but Cæsar!

Officer.
Pardon! true!

Octavius.
And nought about his paramour?

Officer.
The queen?

Octavius.
Yes, fellow, yes.

Officer.
Surely our emperor knows
Of her; the story now is some days old.
The queen was poisoned by two little worms
Which people here call asps, most venomous things,
Coil'd in a yellow fig around the seeds.
Her maidens wail'd her loudly; men and maidens
Alike mourn'd over . . I had nearly slipt.

Octavius.
Many have done the same.
Art thou a Roman?

Officer.
I have the honour, sir, to be a Gaul,
A native of Massilia, that famed city
Inhabited by heroes, built by Gods,
Who entered it again with Caius Julius.

Mecænas.
And didst thou see them enter?

Officer.
Not distinctly,
There were a few between: one told it me
Who saw them; which, ye know, is just the same.

Octavius.
Retire, my brave! go sure of a reward.
Lucretia hath escaped us after all!
But there is wax in Egypt, there are Greeks
Who model it, and who can bear to look
On queen or asp; this model'd to the life,
The other more like what they work upon.
No trouble in thus carrying her to Rome.
Gallus! thou lookest grave: thou art the man
Exactly to compose an epitaph.
No matter which died first: I think the asps
Rather have had the start: I may be wrong,
A bad chronologist, a worse astrologer.

Mecænas.
Where Cæsar smiles, all others smile but Gallus,

Gallus.
Not even Cæsar's smiles awaken mine
When every enemy has dropt away,
And he who made so many safe, is safe.

Mecænas.
I wish thou wert more joyous.

Gallus.
Kind the wish,
Almost enough to make me so.

Mecænas.
Come! Come!
I know you poets: any wager now
Thou hast already forced the weeping Muse
To thy embraces. Tell us honestly;
Hast thou not turn'd the egg upon the nest
Ready for hatching?

Octavius.
Guilty; look at him,
He blushes, blushes from cheekbone to beard.
Now, Gallus, for the epitaph.

Mecænas.
Recite it.

Gallus.
Epitaphs are but cold and chisel'd words,
Or mostly false if warmer: quite unfit
Are mine for marble or for memory.
I thought of her . . another would have said
He wept: I wept not, but I know I sigh'd.

Mecænas.
And wrote? For poet is half sigh half flame:
Sigh out thy sigh.

Gallus.
Would Cæsar hear it?

Octavius.
Yea.

Gallus.
I have not ventured to pronounce the name
Of her I meditated on.

Cæsar.
My friend
Is here judicious as in all things else.

Gallus.
“Thou hast been floating on the o'erswollen stream
Of life these many summers; is thy last
Now over? hast thou dreamt out every dream?
Hath horn funereal blown the pageant past?
Cæsar! thou too must follow: all the rods
Of sternest lictor cannot scare off Death;
She claims the earth for heritage; our Gods
Themselves have seen their children yield their breath.”

Cæsar.
Gallus! I always thought thee a brave soldier,
Never a first-rate poet: I am right.

Gallus.
Cæsar! I never heard of one who gain'd
A battle and a kingdom who was not.

Cæsar.
If there be anything on earth I know
Better than other things, 'tis poetry.

Mecænas.
My sweet Octavius! draw not under nose
The knuckle of forefinger. Gallus aim'd
A harmless arrow: Love in sport hath done it
Often and often.
Gallus, seize his hand.
Now sing a pæan; sing a prophet's; sing
Egypt! thy pyramid of power is closed.

Gallus.
I would; but want the breath: I have but strength
For elegy: here is the last of mine.
“The mighty of the earth are earth,
A passing gleam the brightest smile,
In golden beds have sorrows birth,
Alas! these live the longer while.”

Octavius.
Unless we haste to supper, we shall soon
Forfeit our appetites. Come, my two friends!