Go then, Valerius. Let the legions know,
That I will answer this new embassy
Within the hour.... They will mutiny,
If I refuse these terms.... What shall I do?
What shall I do?
The trap is plain enough
To me; but they, they only see the rough,
Long road and the red, ever-circling cloud
Of horsemen, raining arrows on them there.
Gods! And the mountains are so near, so near!
Scarce three days march ... that we shall never make.
I boasted once. The gods like not the proud.
And I shall die in this red waste of sand,
Though my heart tremble and my stiff limbs shake.
A thousand slaves bowed down at my command;
I lived in ivory palaces of delight;
I ruled an empire ... here is all my might;
An old and wearied man in a bare tent,
Whence, presently, I shall go out to die.
How they will rage at Rome! Each will outvie
The next in fury: none will dare lament.
Caesar will listen with a little smile,
A smile like two blue ice-cliffs as they part,
[24]
Slow-rising from the deep caves of his heart.
Pompey will bow his great gold head awhile,
And say, “He died a Roman. It is well.”
Perhaps be sad, a little. For the rest,
That yelping pack of nobles, they will howl
How, “Crassus was a madman at the best,
And in this last attempt, a blind old owl,
A drink-crazed miser with a wooden sword.
He blundered here and here! His whole campaign
Was one great blunder!” So with one accord,
They howl.
To praise is hard, easy to damn.
I failed in this. Some other will succeed.
Yet they are right, in part. That day, far back,
When by the borderline I checked my steed....
Our spies had said the Parthian army lay
Encamped near by and ready for the fray.
We found no army; nothing but a track,
Thousands of footprints stamped in the red sand,
Where a great host had passed. A sudden fear
Seized on the legions and on every hand
The men shrank back.... No foe stood anywhere,
Nothing but scarlet sand and brassy sky,
And men aghast at signs traced on the ground,
A ring of white, scared faces, without sound.
Then afterwards, there came that burning march
Under a sky of flame, continually.
Our very armor seemed to shrink and parch
Beneath that sun; our tongues grew swelled and black;
[25]
And ever circling, circling, front and back,
The Parthians galloped in a cloud of dust.
They would not turn and fight but slew us thus.
Their bitter arrows came like hail on us.
Our strongest dropped and died without a blow.
Then, beyond Carrhæ, trusting in our woe,
They turned at last and stood to wait our thrust.
But two things I remember of that fight.
How Publius went out—the burning light
Smote on his armor, turning it to gold,
Save where, a sunset cloud, his red cloak rolled;
And in his face was joy and keen delight,
Youth and a boy’s high heart and great resolves....
A golden knight he stood, a golden knight....
He rides away, the crimson cloud dissolves....
One other picture burns within my brain,
Like white-hot sand; and will burn now until
I go into the trap tonight.... Again
The dust cloud rose, and from a little hill
I saw the sheen of spearheads at its rim,
And near the rim a spot of black that grew,
Grew, grew, till earth and sky alike were dim;
For there was nought but it in earth and sky....
Nought but a black, dead, face ... a face I knew....
The lips were bloody ... down upon the pike
Dripped long slow drops like tears.... I hear them now,
Gathering, hanging.... Gods! they strike and strike!...
Dripping forever on my naked heart....
Great tears of blood.... Once, very long ago,
I had a son.... How glad he seemed to start
[26]
On that attack!... No ... no ... I shall go mad!
I must not think how glad he was!... how glad....
We fell back towards the mountains. Cassius took
Another way. He may be slain or safe,
I know not; for myself, my legious chafe
And mutiny, I die here. But as I look
So close to death, I see that what I strove
To do will yet be done and Rome shall rule
Forever o’er the bloody road I clove.
I break ... but she will find another tool.
Ere the first sword was sharpened and the first trumpet blown
Rome looked upon the new-made lands and marked them for her own!
Ere the first ship was timbered and the first rudder hung
Rome held the oceans in her hands, splendid and stern and young!
The wild tribes bend before her, the kings are overthrown,
The purple empires of the East before her feet fall down.
From strange barbaric countries her captains bring her spoil,
Treasures of gems and ivory, spices and wines and oil.
Wheat grows for her in Egypt; for her the Greek scribes write,
[27]
For her the diver dares the shark, the fowler scales the height,
To feed her great arenas the bold beast-tamer quakes
Among the tawny lions or the hissing pits of snakes.
Her legions march in Asia, they tramp through Farthest Gaul,
In Greece their horns blow up the dawn, in Spain they stand a wall.
And still upon her Seven Hills Rome rules the seas and tides,
The earth and all that in it is, while that stern strength abides.
Hail for the last time, Mother! Your sons stand here at bay.
Still you have sons for conquest. We fall the Roman way!
Our cheers still ringing, our short swords drawn,
We die here singing, but Rome, Rome goes on!
Ah! Yes, Valerius, I will answer them.
Comrades! I know these terms are but a trap:
Yet I would rather die by Parthian swords
Than Roman.
After I am dead push on,
Straight to the mountains; once the heights are won,
You can defy at last these swarming hordes.
Break camp at once to guard against mishap.
[28]
Farewell! Valerius is your general now....
Up there, you say, upon that hillock’s brow
They wait?... Yes, I can see the glint of steel....
