Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 6Bridges, Robert
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Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 6
Bridges, Robert
English drama; English poetry
_Ep._ Wilt thou? Art thou the man?
Dost thou hate Nero?
_Luc._ Pray, lady, be still.
_Ep._ Sir, canst thou help me?
_Luc._ If thou art wronged by Nero,
Lady, I can and will help thee.
_Ep._ And thou
Thyself too art in danger.
_Luc._ In greater danger
Than thou surmisest.
_Ep._ If all wait their turn,
Who shall be left to avenge?
_Luc._ I do not wait.
Let me beseech thee, lady, master this passion,
And tell thy grief.
_Ep._ My grief? nay, that’s past telling:
There are no words for that. Yet fear not, sir;
I can be quiet while I tell my story.
_Luc._ Be comforted to know thou tellest to one,
Thy sworn ally, before thou sayst a word.
To his strong mortal anger add thy cause.
_Ep._ I shall, sir; I can. All womanly soft feeling
I have driven for ever from me; and I have sworn
A pact with tears, that I will shed not one 1502
Till I be avenged.
_Luc._ Trust me; and tell thy wrong.
_Ep._ I live at Naples, sir; my mother keeps
The tavern where the sailors most resort.
My father died five years ago, and then
It happened that my brother, my only brother,—
Whose generous nature blamed the life of gain
That there we led,—left us, and was ere-long
Inveigled by the Christian sect. It happened
He met their leader Paulus,—whom ’twas said
Burrus protected,—for he came by Naples,
And there my brother heard him, and after had
Strange visions, and believed the end of the world
Was near, and Christ would come to reign in Rome,
And other doctrines taught by Paul; and lately,
Three days ago, he saw Paul in a dream,
Who beckoned him to Rome. Hither he came,
And I soon after him, being full of fear,
Knowing the ill-odour of his sect, and him
Inclined to boast it; and so I came. The Christians
Were seized last night, and my poor brother, sir,
Though unknown, unsuspected and unchallenged,
Gave himself up. Now all is over.
_Luc._ Thou meanest....
_Ep._ I could not stay him. I saw him taken. One Thrasea, 1525
A senator, whose voice seemed powerful with them,
Joined his commands with my poor prayers in vain:
’Twas Nero’s order.
_Luc._ Was he burned?
_Ep._ Ye gods,
If there be any gods; if there be Christ,
Or Zeus, or Jove, or who you will, look down,
Avenge!
_Luc._ Thou shalt be avenged.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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