English

A chill damp wind, and a barren land;
The chaise jolts through the mire;
But, ringing and singing, I seem to hear:
" Sun, thou accusing fire! "

'Twas a ballad my old nurse often sang,
On a tale of murder founded;
The burden was, " Sun, thou accusing fire! "
Like a bugle call it sounded.

The murderer lived in mirth and glee,
And slept on an easy pillow,

The carriage went bumping along in the dark,
And many a jolt it gave one.
Then a sudden crash, and a wheel came loose;
Our plight was distinctly a grave one.

The postillion dismounted and hastened for help
To the village, and lo! I found me
Alone in the wood at the dead of night
With a clamour and howl around me.

'Tis the famished wolves that so loudly call
With hunger's voice unsleeping;

This is the forest of Teutoburg
Of which Tacitus has written:
The classic morass where Varus stuck,
And the Roman host was smitten.

By Hermann, the noble Cheruscian prince,
They were beaten, and died inglorious;
The German nation triumphed here,
And rose from the mud victorious.

Had Hermann and his fair-haired hordes
Met the fate that was the foeman's,
German freedom had never been even a name,

When I reached Cologne and heard the Rhine,
The dark was already falling.
I felt the effect of the German air —
In an appetite appalling.

On omelettes and ham I gladly supped,
And, seeing the ham so salt was,
I was driven of course to drink Rhine wine;
The bacon alone at fault was.

The Rhine wine sparkles golden still,
In the green, familiar rummer;
But, drink in excess, and your nose will flame

When I crossed from France to Germany
'Twas the mournful month and dreary
When November winds are stripping bare
The forests worn and weary.

As we drew towards the boundary
I felt my pulses leaping
Within my bosom for delight;
I think I started weeping.

And when I heard the German tongue,
'Twas with such curious gladness
I seemed to feel my heart's blood ebb

DEPARTURE FROM PARIS

Paris, adieu, beloved town,
To-day I turn a rover,
And leave you happy here behind,
With pleasure brimming over.

My German heart has fallen sick —
Within my breast I feel it —
And in the North the doctor dwells
Whose skill alone can heal it.

He's famous for his wondrous cures,
To health he'll soon restore me,
But drastic are his bitter drugs;

O CTAVIUS AND O CTAVIA

Octavius . Embrace me, sister; we have won; thy wrongs
Are now avenged.
Octavia . Speak not of wrong, but right,
And bring Rome peace and happiness once more.
'Tis kind in thee (but thou wert always kind)
To come so soon to greet me, while the altar
Is warm and damp with incense for thy safety.
Octavius . Octavia! I have brought thee from the Nile
Two pretty little serpents.

[Alexandria. August, 30 B.C.]

Officer . O CTAVIUS . M ECÆNAS . G ALLUS .

Officer . News! glorious news! certain news! Dead as Death!
Octavius . Who dead?
Officer . The master of the horse to Julius,
Master too, but this morning, of this realm,
The great . .
Mecaenas . Halt there! and know, where Caesar is
There is none great but Caesar!
Officer . Pardon! true!

E ROS AND A NTONY

Antony . Eros! I speak thee welcome.
Eros . Hail, our lord!
Antony . Thou hast been ever faithful to thy trust,
And spoken freely, but decorously,
On what concern'd the household and the state.
My glory is gone down, and life is cold
Without it. I have known two honest men
Among the senators and consulars . .
Eros . None among humbler?
Antony . By the Powers above!

D OLABELLA . C ÆSARION . Scopas .

Dolabella . Where hast thou put Caesarion?
Scopas . Nigh at hand.
Dolabella . What is he doing?
Scopas . Just what lads like most;
Munching a water-melon.
There is good,
At least good-nature, in that simple soul.
While most were sleeping in the night of noon
I brought him hither. Thirsty were we both
And wine I offer'd him: he pusht it by