A boy who died a babe; but were he living Can you make war? Have you alliances? There is my hand—if such a league there Would set him in the front rank of the True to the scent; and we have two- The glory and grief of battle won or lost Solders a race together-yea-tho' they legg'd dogs Among us who can smell a true occasion, And when to bark and how. Synorix. My good Lord Sinnatus, I once was at the hunting of a lion. Roused by the clamour of the chase he woke, Came to the front of the wood-his monarch mane Bristled about his quick ears-he stood there Staring upon the hunter. A score of dogs Gnaw'd at his ankles: at the last he felt The trouble of his feet, put forth one paw, Slew four, and knew it not, and so remain'd Staring upon the hunter: and this Rome Will crush you if you wrestle with her; then Save for some slight report in her own Senate Scarce know what she has done. (Aside.) Would I could move him, Provoke him any way! (Aloud.) The Lady Camma, Wise I am sure as she is beautiful, Too like to ruin himself, and you, and me! Who else, with this black thunderbolt of Rome Above him, would have chased the stag to-day In the full face of all the Roman camp? A miracle that they let him home again, Not caught, maim'd, blinded him. [Camma shudders. (Aside.) I have made her tremble. (Aloud.) I know they mean to torture him to death. I dare not tell him how I came to know it; I durst not trust him with-my serving Rome To serve Galatia: you heard him on the Earth with her shadow! I trust she will return. These Romans dare not violate the Temple. No, I must lure my game into the camp. A woman I could live and die for. What! Die for a woman, what new faith is this? I am not mad, not sick, not old enough To doat on one alone. Yes, mad for her, Camma the stately, Camma the greathearted, So mad, I fear some strange and evil chance Coming upon me, for by the Gods I |