1. Thou wert not, Cassius, and thou couldst not be, Last of the Romans, though thy memory claim From Brutus his own glory--and on thee Rests the full splendour of his sacred fame: Nor he who dared make the foul tyrant quail _5 Amid his cowering senate with thy name, Though thou and he were great--it will avail To thine own fame that Otho's should not fail. 2. 'Twill wrong thee not--thou wouldst, if thou couldst feel, Abjure such envious fame--great Otho died _10 Like thee--he sanctified his country's steel, At once the tyrant and tyrannicide, In his own blood--a deed it was to bring Tears from all men--though full of gentle pride, Such pride as from impetuous love may spring, _15 That will not be refused its offering. NOTE: _13 bring cj. Garnett; buy 1839, 1st edition; wring cj. Rossetti. *** FRAGMENTS SUPPOSED TO BE PARTS OF OTHO. [Published by Dr. Garnett, "Relics of Shelley", 1862,--where, however, only the fragment numbered 2 is assigned to "Otho". Forman (1876) connects all three fragments with that projected poem.] 1. Those whom nor power, nor lying faith, nor toil, Nor custom, queen of many slaves, makes blind, Have ever grieved that man should be the spoil Of his own weakness, and with earnest mind Fed hopes of its redemption; these recur _5 Chastened by deathful victory now, and find Foundations in this foulest age, and stir Me whom they cheer to be their minister. 2. Dark is the realm of grief: but human things Those may not know who cannot weep for them. _10 ... 3. Once more descend The shadows of my soul upon mankind, For to those hearts with which they never blend, Thoughts are but shadows which the flashing mind From the swift clouds which track its flight of fire, _15 Casts on the gloomy world it leaves behind. ... *** 'O THAT A CHARIOT OF CLOUD WERE MINE'. [Published by Dr. Garnett, "Relics of Shelley", 1862.] O that a chariot of cloud were mine! Of cloud which the wild tempest weaves in air, When the moon over the ocean's line Is spreading the locks of her bright gray hair. O that a chariot of cloud were mine! _5 I would sail on the waves of the billowy wind To the mountain peak and the rocky lake, And the... *** FRAGMENT: TO A FRIEND RELEASED FROM PRISON. [Published by Dr. Garnett, "Relics of Shelley", 1862.] For me, my friend, if not that tears did tremble In my faint eyes, and that my heart beat fast With feelings which make rapture pain resemble, Yet, from thy voice that falsehood starts aghast, I thank thee--let the tyrant keep _5 His chains and tears, yea, let him weep With rage to see thee freshly risen, Like strength from slumber, from the prison, In which he vainly hoped the soul to bind Which on the chains must prey that fetter humankind. _10