Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/437

CANTO IV.] LXXXVI.

The third of the same Moon whose former course

Had all but crowned him, on the selfsame day

Deposed him gently from his throne of force,

And laid him with the Earth's preceding clay.

And showed not Fortune thus how fame and sway,

And all we deem delightful, and consume

Our souls to compass through each arduous way,

Are in her eyes less happy than the tomb?

Were they but so in Man's, how different were his doom!

LXXXVII.

And thou, dread Statue! yet existent inN24

The austerest form of naked majesty—

Thou who beheldest, 'mid the assassins' din,

At thy bathed base the bloody Cæsar lie,

Folding his robe in dying dignity—

An offering to thine altar from the Queen

Of gods and men, great Nemesis! did he die,

And thou, too, perish, Pompey? have ye been

Victors of countless kings, or puppets of a scene?