A book of Bristol sonnets | ||
104
“THE DYING GLADIATOR,”
BY CTESILAUS.
A CAST IN THE VESTIBULE OF THE MUSEUM, BRISTOL.
So known to death, I cannot fear to die!Mine arm, thus leaned upon, will ease my pain.
For this alone my forehead doth complain,—
Him by whose stroke in this disgrace I lie,
None other schooled to this shrewd thrust but I!
E'en now I make black Death upon me gain!
I urged my heart's pulse, swelled each ebbing vein!
Fool that I was, myself mine enemy!
Cheer on, ye careless galleries! I blame
None but myself! I only wish for life
To bid my boys choose out some gentler game,
And arm no friend's right hand with deadly knife!
So small a wound to sap such lusty strength!
Gods! grant I swoon before I fall my length!
A book of Bristol sonnets | ||