The Works of Lord Byron Volume V Part 125

_Caes._ I saw him.

_Arn._ You!

_Caes._ Yes, Sir! You forget I am or was Spirit, till I took up with your cast shape, And a worse name. I'm Caesar and a hunch-back Now. Well! the first of Caesars was a bald-head, And loved his laurels better as a wig (So history says) than as a glory.[233] Thus The world runs on, but we'll be merry still.

I saw your Romulus (simple as I am) 80 Slay his own twin, quick-born of the same womb, Because he leapt a ditch ('twas then no wall, Whate'er it now be); and Rome's earliest cement Was brother's blood; and if its native blood Be spilt till the choked Tiber be as red As e'er 'twas yellow, it will never wear The deep hue of the Ocean and the Earth, Which the great robber sons of fratricide Have made their never-ceasing scene of slaughter, For ages.

_Arn._ But what have these done, their far 90 Remote descendants, who have lived in peace, The peace of Heaven, and in her sunshine of Piety?

_Caes._ And what had _they_ done, whom the old Romans o'erswept?--Hark!

_Arn._ They are soldiers singing A reckless roundelay, upon the eve Of many deaths, it may be of their own.

_Caes._ And why should they not sing as well as swans?

They are black ones, to be sure.

_Arn._ So, you are learned, I see, too?

_Caes._ In my grammar, certes. I Was educated for a monk of all times, 100 And once I was well versed in the forgotten Etruscan letters, and--were I so minded-- Could make their hieroglyphics plainer than Your alphabet.

_Arn._ And wherefore do you not?

_Caes._ It answers better to resolve the alphabet Back into hieroglyphics. Like your statesman, And prophet, pontiff, doctor, alchymist, Philosopher, and what not, they have built More Babels, without new dispersion, than The stammering young ones of the flood's dull ooze, 110 Who failed and fled each other. Why? why, marry, Because no man could understand his neighbour.

They are wiser now, and will not separate For nonsense. Nay, it is their brotherhood, Their Shibboleth--their Koran--Talmud--their Cabala--their best brick-work, wherewithal They build more----

_Arn._ (_interrupting him_). Oh, thou everlasting sneerer!

Be silent! How the soldier's rough strain seems Softened by distance to a hymn-like cadence!

Listen!

_Caes._ Yes. I have heard the angels sing. 120

_Arn._ And demons howl.

_Caes._ And man, too. Let us listen: I love all music.

_Song of the Soldiers within_.

The black bands came over The Alps and their snow; With Bourbon, the rover, They pa.s.sed the broad Po.

We have beaten all foemen, We have captured a King[234], We have turned back on no men, And so let us sing! 130 Here's the Bourbon for ever!

Though penniless all, We'll have one more endeavour At yonder old wall.

With the Bourbon we'll gather At day-dawn before The gates, and together Or break or climb o'er The wall: on the ladder, As mounts each firm foot[dh], 140 Our shout shall grow gladder, And Death only be mute[235].

With the Bourbon we'll mount o'er The walls of old Rome, And who then shall count o'er[di]

The spoils of each dome?

Up! up with the Lily!

And down with the Keys!

In old Rome, the seven-hilly, We'll revel at ease. 150 Her streets shall be gory, Her Tiber all red, And her temples so h.o.a.ry Shall clang with our tread.

Oh, the Bourbon! the Bourbon[236]!

The Bourbon for aye!

Of our song bear the burden!

And fire, fire away!

With Spain for the vanguard, Our varied host comes; 160 And next to the Spaniard Beat Germany's drums; And Italy's lances Are couched at their mother; But our leader from France is, Who warred with his brother.

Oh, the Bourbon! the Bourbon!

Sans country or home, We'll follow the Bourbon, To plunder old Rome. 170

_Caes._ An indifferent song For those within the walls, methinks, to hear.

_Arn._ Yes, if they keep to their chorus. But here comes The general with his chiefs and men of trust[dj].

A goodly rebel.

_Enter the Constable_ BOURBON _"c.u.m suis," etc., etc._

_Phil._ How now, n.o.ble Prince, You are not cheerful?

_Bourb._ Why should I be so?

_Phil._ Upon the eve of conquest, such as ours, Most men would be so.

_Bourb._ If I were secure!

_Phil._ Doubt not our soldiers. Were the walls of adamant, They'd crack them. Hunger is a sharp artillery. 180

_Bourb._ That they will falter is my least of fears.

That they will be repulsed, with Bourbon for Their chief, and all their kindled appet.i.tes To marshal them on--were those h.o.a.ry walls Mountains, and those who guard them like the G.o.ds Of the old fables, I would trust my t.i.tans;-- But now----

_Phil._ They are but men who war with mortals.

_Bourb._ True: but those walls have girded in great ages, And sent forth mighty spirits. The past earth And present phantom of imperious Rome[dk] 190 Is peopled with those warriors; and methinks They flit along the eternal City's rampart, And stretch their glorious, gory, shadowy hands, And beckon me away!

_Phil._ So let them! Wilt thou Turn back from shadowy menaces of shadows?

_Bourb._ They do not menace me. I could have faced, Methinks, a Sylla's menace; but they clasp, And raise, and wring their dim and deathlike hands, And with their thin aspen faces and fixed eyes Fascinate mine. Look there!

_Phil._ I look upon 200 A lofty battlement.

_Bourb._ And there!

_Phil._ Not even A guard in sight; they wisely keep below, Sheltered by the grey parapet from some Stray bullet of our lansquenets, who might Practise in the cool twilight.

_Bourb._ You are blind.

_Phil._ If seeing nothing more than may be seen Be so.

_Bourb._ A thousand years have manned the walls With all their heroes,--the last Cato[237] stands And tears his bowels, rather than survive The liberty of that I would enslave. 210 And the first Ca.s.sar with his triumphs flits From battlement to battlement.

_Phil._ Then conquer The walls for which he conquered and be greater!

_Bourb._ True: so I will, or perish.

_Phil._ You can _not_.