Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 1.pdf/264

230

HEN ran he swift to hide his head

In flower-grown close, and with him fled

Two faithful slaves, but all around

He heard the fearful surging sound

Of maddening voices, which: ‘Nero,’

Cried loudly, ‘thou to hell shalt go;

Where skulk’st thou?’ And he, terrified,

Beheld that vain it was to hide,

Yet knew not how to go or stay

So he might ’scape the dread affray.

And compassing his fearsome case,

Despaired he of all hope of grace,

And ’mandment gave his slaves to kill

Their master, and when nought fulfil

Would they his best, the wretched elf

Fell on his sword and slew himself

Outright, but ere death came he gave

His servants bidding they should shave

His head from off his trunk, that none

Might know ’twas he, and, that stroke done,

They should his corse without delay

Burn on a pyre to ashes grey.

This may be read by him who dives

Among old parchments in the lives

Of those twelve Cæsars, which were writ

By Suetonius, who doth twit