  AFTER PHARSALIA [POMPEY. 48 B. C.] So it is over; you have won at last, And our long struggle ends and with it Rome, The Rome that was the glory of the past, Whose stripped fleets ruled the seas, shaking the foam From their proud prows. They brought a freedom then. Freedom and the Republic. Once. No more. Well, it was fated, my most trusted men Failed me at need; as your chiefs will fail you, O Caesar! You I neither fear nor hate. We strove not with each other but with fate. Your followers will ruin what you do; Since you are honest, and will strive to make New laws and found an Empire, which, at least, Gives Justice equally to all. The stake Is high. They have sat long now at their feast, With Rome their pig-trough. They will conquer you; A hundred dwarfs, pulling a giant down. The problem is too great, the time not ripe For its solution. We have fought, we two! For the Republic I, you for your crown, Each one of his own cause the very type. Though both of us have failed, your cause yet rules, Your Empire. Any fool can govern fools. To make fools rule themselves and do it well, That is the task. If you could rule forever, Caesar ... but little men will seize your work, Your great machine. There’s where the paths dissever! And Rome roars blindly down amid the murk To swift destruction.... Still one chance remains Where my disbanded legions fill the plains Of Egypt. A bare chance. If that fails too, Why, “Here lies CnÆus Pompey, called the Great, He fought for the Republic, loved his wife, And climbed the ladder of swords that men call Life.” Stretching straight from the viewless Pit, To the skies that are shamed because of it, Lit with a blue and hungry fire, That blasts like the breath of fulfilled Desire, Glory and Shame in its secret hoards, It stands supreme, the Ladder of Swords! You must climb it? Aye, with all men born! When? When you reel from the common scorn, When utter Defeat has gripped you fast, And your life goes down in the dark at last; When the things you builded dissolve like mist, And Love has broken his faith and tryst, And your body strains at the torturers’ cords, You have come at last to the Ladder of Swords! Will you find a friend? One friend alone, Flesh of your flesh and bone of your bone, The last strange Courage that mocks Despair, That hunts the wolf with the wounded hare, That throws your life in the jaws of death To snatch it back in a single breath. Blinded no longer by pomp and words, You shall go up stark to the Ladder of Swords! Though your torn feet slip on the bloody steel, Though your body faint and your senses reel, Dizzied with agony, blind and numb, You shall crawl the rungs till the end is come; Though the sun flare out and the heavens crack, Nor god nor devil can turn you back! This is the prize that Defeat accords! Courage! Courage! The Ladder of Swords! Yes, by the gods! Caesar, the day is yours, You rule the world—while you debauch the State. Yet, somewhere, beyond all, there still endures, That pure Republic: and its white walls shine, Proudly, a dream no conquests can dispel. Your hosts toil uselessly; no force can take Those walls. Your legionaries break and break, In vain. Ever, before each bleeding line, It rises still, the Vision Invincible! TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE: Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. |
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