Thou wert not, Cassius, and thou couldst not be,
Last of the Romans, though thy memory claim
From Brutus his own glory--and on thee
Rests the full
splendour
of his sacred fame:
Nor he who dared make the foul tyrant quail _5
Amid his cowering senate with thy name,
Though thou and he were great--it will avail
To thine own fame that Otho's should not fail.
Shelley
***
DEATH.
[Published by Mrs. Shelley in "Posthumous Poems", 1824.]
1.
They die--the dead return not--Misery
Sits near an open grave and calls them over,
A Youth with hoary hair and haggard eye--
They are the names of kindred, friend and lover,
Which he so feebly calls--they all are gone-- _5
Fond wretch, all dead! those vacant names alone,
This most familiar scene, my pain--
These tombs--alone remain.
2.
Misery, my sweetest friend--oh, weep no more!
Thou wilt not be consoled--I wonder not! _10
For I have seen thee from thy dwelling's door
Watch the calm sunset with them, and this spot
Was even as bright and calm, but transitory,
And now thy hopes are gone, thy hair is hoary;
This most familiar scene, my pain-- _15
These tombs--alone remain.
NOTE:
_5 calls editions 1839; called 1824.
***
OTHO.
[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition.]
1.
Thou wert not, Cassius, and thou couldst not be,
Last of the Romans, though thy memory claim
From Brutus his own glory--and on thee
Rests the full
splendour
of his sacred fame:
Nor he who dared make the foul tyrant quail _5
Amid his cowering senate with thy name,
Though thou and he were great--it will avail
To thine own fame that Otho's should not fail.
2.
'Twill wrong thee not--thou wouldst, if thou couldst feel,
Abjure such envious fame--great Otho died _10
Like thee--he sanctified his country's steel,
At once the tyrant and tyrannicide,
In his own blood--a deed it was to bring
Tears from all men--though full of gentle pride,
Such pride as from impetuous love may spring, _15
That will not be refused its offering.
[Published by Dr. Garnett, "Relics of Shelley", 1862,--where, however,
only the fragment numbered 2 is assigned to "Otho". Forman (1876)
connects all three fragments with that projected poem.]
1.
Those whom nor power, nor lying faith, nor toil,
Nor custom, queen of many slaves, makes blind,
Have ever grieved that man should be the spoil
Of his own weakness, and with earnest mind
Fed hopes of its redemption; these recur _5
Chastened by deathful victory now, and find
Foundations in this foulest age, and stir
Me whom they cheer to be their minister.
2.
Dark is the realm of grief: but human things
Those may not know who cannot weep for them. _10
