n vain
I cry for Lethe; where the frankincense
Sends up its smoke, from all the ancient wars
The victims lift their faces, seamed with scars,
In grim reproachful gaze to call me hence.
Germanicus--Sejanus--Drusus rise ...
Who brought you hither? Has the grave no bars?
Ah, 'tis past bearing, how with corpse-cold eyes
Ye suck the life-blood from me pitilessly!
I know I slew you--but it had to be.
Was it my fault ye threw the losing dice?
Away! Alas--when ends my misery?"

The grave physician held the cup; he drank
Its cooling at a draught, then feebly sank
Among the pillows, still with wandering eye
About the chamber, from his forehead dank
Wiping the dews: "They're gone? No more they try
To fright me? Ah, perchance 'twas but the mist ...
Yet often have they come, by night--in what dread guise
None knows but I ... Come, sit thee near me ... hist!
And let me tell of dim old memories.

"I too was young once, trusted in my star,
Had faith in men; but all the glamour of youth
Vanished too soon--and, piercing to the truth,
I found some evil each fair show to mar.
No thing I saw so high and free from blame
But worms were at its heart; each noble deed
Revealed self-seeking as its primal seed.
Love, honor, virtue--each was but a name!
Naught marked us off, vile creatures of the dust,
From ravening brutes, save on the smiling face
A honeyed falseness--in the heart so base
A craven weakness and a fiercer lust.
Where was a friend had not his friend betrayed
A brother guiltless of a brother's death,
A wife that hid no poisoned sting beneath
A fond embrace? Of one clay all were made!
Thus I became as they. Since only fear
Could tame that crew, I bade its form draw near.
It was a war I waged; I found a joy
Undreamed-of in their death-cries, and in blood
Full ankle-deep I waded--victor stood,
To find at last that horror too could cloy!
Now, grimly bearing what I may not mend,
Remorseless, unconsoled, I wait the end."

His dull voice sank to silence. Moaning low,
He met new pains: cold sweat stood on his brow.
In fearsome change his face the watchers saw
Grow like some hideous mask; till Macro came
Nearer the throne-like couch, and spoke a name
"Shall I thy nephew call--Caligula?
Thy sickness waxes--"

Hissed the prince in scorn:
"My curse upon thee, viper! What to thee
Is Caius? Still I