Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, -30 B.C. -- Fiction; Egypt -- History -- 332-30 B.C. -- Fiction
“I fear,” she gasped--“how know I that it will slay outright? I have
seen so many die by poison and scarce one has died outright. And
some--ah, I cannot think on them!”
“Fear not,” I said, “I am a master of my craft. Or, if thou dost
fear, cast this poison forth and live. In Rome thou mayst still find
happiness; ay, in Rome, where thou shalt walk in Cæsar’s triumph, while
the laughter of the hard-eyed Latin women shall chime down the music of
thy golden chains.”
“Nay, I will die, Olympus. Oh, if one would but show the path.”
Then Iras loosed her hand and stepped forward. “Give me the draught,
Physician,” she said. “I go to make ready for my Queen.”
“It is well,” I answered; “on thy own head be it!” and I poured from the
phial into a little golden goblet.
She raised it, curtsied low to Cleopatra, then, coming forward, kissed
her on the brow, and Charmion she also kissed. This done, tarrying not
and making no prayer, for Iras was a Greek, she drank, and, putting her
hand to her head, instantly fell down and died.
“Thou seest,” I said, breaking in upon the silence, “it is swift.”
“Ay, Olympus; thine is a master drug! Come now, I thirst; fill me the
bowl, lest Iras weary in waiting at the gates!”
So I poured afresh into the goblet; but this time, making pretence
to rinse the cup, I mixed a little water with the bane, for I was not
minded that she should die before she knew me.
Then did the royal Cleopatra, taking the goblet in her hand, turn her
lovely eyes to heaven and cry aloud:
“O ye Gods of Egypt! who have deserted me, to you no longer will I pray,
for your ears are shut unto my crying and your eyes blind to my griefs!
Therefore, I make entreaty of that last friend whom the Gods, departing,
leave to helpless man. Sweep hither, Death, whose winnowing wings
enshadow all the world, and give me ear! Draw nigh, thou King of Kings!
who, with an equal hand, bringest the fortunate head of one pillow with
the slave, and by thy spiritual breath dost waft the bubble of our life
far from this hell of earth! Hide me where winds blow not and waters
cease to roll; where wars are done and Cæsar’s legions cannot march!
Take me to a new dominion, and crown me Queen of Peace! Thou art my
Lord, O Death, and in thy kiss I have conceived. I am in labour of a
Soul: see--it stands new-born upon the edge of Time! Now--now--go, Life!
Come, Sleep! Come, Antony!”
And, with one glance to heaven, she drank, and cast the goblet to the
ground.
Then at last came the moment of my pent-up vengeance, and of the
vengeance of Egypt’s outraged Gods, and of the falling of the curse of
Menkau-ra.
“What’s this?” she cried; “I grow cold, but I die not! Thou dark
physician, thou hast betrayed me!”
“Peace, Cleopatra! Presently shalt thou die and know the fury of the
Gods! _The curse of Menkau-ra hath fallen!_ It is finished! Look upon
me, woman! Look upon this marred face, this twisted form, this living
mass of sorrow! _Look! look!_ Who am I?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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