My comrades, we have laughed And feasted for an hour together, yet I have not told you why I summoned thus My ten most trusted leaders to this feast. Now is the time! I shall discharge the debt. Glorious tidings come from out the East! And Mithridates hurries aid to us-- Let not that goblet fall I pray thee, friend!-- Ah! Dog and traitor! So this was your end! Guards! Guards!--I think you will not rise again, Perpenna, from that blow! Guards! Ho there, men! A-a-ah! Thank you, Pompey! No, you will not take Me back to grace your triumph: they have done Their work too well, your friends. My sands are run. And you have burst all barriers left to break That shielded the Republic. It is dead. Not with a pomp of banners, Not with a flare of spears, Not with mourning or head downcast The great Republic dies at last; A sword in the heart and the hands bound fast, Dead in the wreck of the years! Pompey, Pompey, chief of pride, Hero and lord of Rome! You ride to a gallant triumph now, Gay as the green and fruitful bough; But the bough will be withered and dry enow When you ride for the last time home! Pompey, Pompey, laugh while you may! Laugh as Polycrates laughed! But ever, when life is most glorious, I bid you think of Sertorius, Of how he rode forth victorious, And how he was slain by craft. I have been slain by great lords; But a slave shall strike you down, A slave shall strike you down from behind, And your strength shall fail, and your sight go blind, And your body a nameless grave shall find, You, that strove for a crown! Pompey, Pompey, turn where you may! You shall get but little ease. For whether on sea or whether on land, One picture shall ever before you stand-- A man struck down on a barren strand-- A head hacked off by the seas! Pompey, Pompey, go where you will, Double and turn again! One thought shall you know till you lie in your grave; A thought not even your soul can brave!-- The thought of a mean and evil slave, And a knife that was forged in Spain!