LITMIR.BIZ

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their houses. So it went

       Till Actium. She loved him, let him be

       By day nor night alone, at every turn

       Was with him and upon him.

      Well, this life

       Was neither virtue, glory, fame, nor study,

       But it was life, and life that did not slay

       A Cæsar for a word like Liberty.

       And it was life, its essence nor changed nor lost

       By Actium, where his soul shot forth to her

       As from a catapult a stone is cast,

       Seeing her lift her sixty sails and fly.

       His soul lived in her body as ’twere born

       A part of her, and whithersoever she went

       There followed he. And all their life together

       Was what it was, a rapture, justified

       By its essential honey of realest blossoms,

       In spite of anguished shame. When hauled aboard

       The ship of Cleopatra, he sat down

       And with his two hands covered up his face!

       Brutus had penitence at Philippi

       For virtue which befooled him. Antony

       Remorse and terror there at Actium

       Deserting with his queen, for love that made

       His body not his own, as Brutus’ will

       Was subject to the magic of a word. …

       For what is Virtue, what is Love? At least

       We know their dire effects, that both befool,

       Betray, destroy.

      The Queen and Antony

       Had joined the Inimitable Livers, now they joined

       The Diers Together. They had kept how oft

       The Festival of Flagons, now to keep

       The Ritual of Passing Life was theirs.

       But first they suffered anger with each other

       While on her ship, till touching Tenarus

       When they were brought to speak by women friends,

       At last to eat and sleep together. Yet

       Poison had fallen on their leaves, which stripped

       Their greenness to the stalk, as you shall see. …

       Here to make clear what flight of Antony meant,

       For cause how base or natural, let me say

       That Actium’s battle had not been a loss

       To Antony and his honor, if Canidius,

       Commanding under Antony, had not flown

       In imitation of his chief; the soldiers

       Fought desperately in hope that Antony

       Would come again and lead them.

      So it was

       He touched, with Cleopatra, Africa,

       And sent her into Egypt; and with us,

       Myself and Aristocrates, walked and brooded

       In solitary places, as I said.

       But when he came to Alexandria

       He finds his Cleopatra dragging her fleet

       Over the land space which divides the sea

       Near Egypt from the Red Sea, so to float

       Her fleet in the Arabian Gulf, and there,

       Somewhere upon earth’s other side, to find

       A home secure from war and slavery.

       She failed in this; but Antony leaves the city,

       And leaves his queen, plays Timon, builds a house

       Near Pharos on a little mole; lives here

       Until he hears all princes and all kings

       Desert him in the realm of Rome; which news

       Brings gladness to him, for hope put away,

       And cares slipped off. Then leaving Timoneum—

       For such he named his dwelling there near Pharos—

       He goes to Cleopatra, is received,

       And sets the city feasting once again.

       The order of Inimitable Livers breaks,

       And forms the Diers Together in its place.

       And all who banquet with them, take the oath

       To die with Antony and Cleopatra,

       Observing her preoccupation with

       Drugs poisonous and creatures venomous.

       And thus their feast of flagons and of love

       In many courses riotously consumed

       Awaits the radiate liquor dazzling through

       Their unimagined terror, like the rays

       Shot from the bright eyes of the cockatrice,

       Crackling for poison in the crystal served

       By fleshless hands! A skeleton steward soon

       Will pass the liquer to them; they will drink,

       And leave no message, no commandment either—

       As Theophrastus was reluctant to—

       Denied disciples; for Inimitable Livers

       Raise up no followers, create no faith,

       No cult or sect. Joy has his special wisdom,

       Which dies with him who learned it, does not fire

       Mad bosoms like your Virtue.

      I must note

       The proffered favors, honors of young Cæsar

       To Cleopatra, if she’d put to death

       Her Antony; and Antony’s jealousy,

       Aroused by Thyrsus, messenger of Cæsar,

       Whom Cleopatra gave long audiences,

       And special courtesies; seized, whipped at last

       By Antony, sent back to Cæsar. Yet

       The queen was faithful. When her birth-day came

       She kept it suitable to her fallen state,

       But all the while paying her Antony love,

       And honor, kept his birth-day with such richness

       That guests who came in want departed rich …

      Wine, weariness, much living, early age

       Made fall for Antony. October’s clouds

       In man’s life, like October, have no sun

       To lift the mists of doubt, distortion, fear.

       Faces, events, and wills around us show

       Malformed, or ugly, changed from what they were.

       And when his troops desert him in the city

       To Cæsar, Antony cries out, the queen,

       His Cleopatra, has betrayed him. She

       In terror seeks her monument, sends word

       That she is dead. And Antony believes

       And says delay no longer, stabs himself,

       Is hauled up dying to the arms of her,

       Where midst her frantic wailings he expires!

       Kings and commanders begged of Cæsar grace

       To give this Antony

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