Then afterwards, there came that burning march Under a sky of flame, continually. Our very armor seemed to shrink and parch Beneath that sun; our tongues grew swelled and black; And ever circling, circling, front and back, The Parthians galloped in a cloud of dust. They would not turn and fight but slew us thus. Their bitter arrows came like hail on us. Our strongest dropped and died without a blow. Then, beyond Carrhæ, trusting in our woe, They turned at last and stood to wait our thrust. But two things I remember of that fight. How Publius went out--the burning light Smote on his armor, turning it to gold, Save where, a sunset cloud, his red cloak rolled; And in his face was joy and keen delight, Youth and a boy’s high heart and great resolves.... A golden knight he stood, a golden knight.... He rides away, the crimson cloud dissolves.... One other picture burns within my brain, Like white-hot sand; and will burn now until I go into the trap tonight.... Again The dust cloud rose, and from a little hill I saw the sheen of spearheads at its rim, And near the rim a spot of black that grew, Grew, grew, till earth and sky alike were dim; For there was nought but it in earth and sky.... Nought but a black, dead, face ... a face I knew.... The lips were bloody ... down upon the pike Dripped long slow drops like tears.... I hear them now, Gathering, hanging.... Gods! they strike and strike!... Dripping forever on my naked heart.... Great tears of blood.... Once, very long ago, I had a son.... How glad he seemed to start On that attack!... No ... no ... I shall go mad! I must not think how glad he was!... how glad.... We fell back towards the mountains. Cassius took Another way. He may be slain or safe, I know not; for myself, my legious chafe And mutiny, I die here. But as I look So close to death, I see that what I strove To do will yet be done and Rome shall rule Forever o’er the bloody road I clove. I break ... but she will find another tool. Ere the first sword was sharpened and the first trumpet blown Rome looked upon the new-made lands and marked them for her own! Ere the first ship was timbered and the first rudder hung Rome held the oceans in her hands, splendid and stern and young! The wild tribes bend before her, the kings are overthrown, The purple empires of the East before her feet fall down. From strange barbaric countries her captains bring her spoil, Treasures of gems and ivory, spices and wines and oil. Wheat grows for her in Egypt; for her the Greek scribes write, For her the diver dares the shark, the fowler scales the height, To feed her great arenas the bold beast-tamer quakes Among the tawny lions or the hissing pits of snakes.