Power Caligula, pacing thro’ his pillar’d hall, Ere yet the last dull glimmer of his mind Had faded in the banquet, where reclined He spent all day in drunken festival, Made impious pretence that Jove with him, Unseen, walk’d, talk’d and jested; for he spoke To nothing by his side; or frown’d; or broke In answering smiles; or shook a playful rim Of raiment coyly. ‘Earth,’ he said, ‘is mine?— No vapour. Yet Caligula, brother Jove, Will love thee if he find thee worthy love; If not, his solid powers shall war with thine And break them, God of Cloud.’ The courtiers round, As in the presence of two deities, bent In servile scorn: when, like a warning sent, An utterance of earthquake shook the ground, Awful, but which no human meaning bore. With glaring eyeballs narrowing in dismay, The huddled creature fallen foaming lay, Glass’d in the liquid marbles of the floor. 1881-2. |