Floods of tears pouring, Beating the bosom, Sorrow's mask wearing, Wail till the forum Echo your dirge. Ah! he has fallen, Wisest and noblest, Bravest of mortals! He in the race could Vanquish the swiftest; He the rebellious Parthians routed; With his light arrows Follow'd the Persian; Stoutly his right hand Stretching the bowstring, Small wound but deadly Dealt to the headlong Fugitive foe, Piercing the painted Back of the Mede. He the wild Britons, Far on the unknown Shores of the ocean, And the blue-shielded, Restless Brigantes, Forced to surrender Their necks to the slavish Chains of the Romans. Even old Ocean Trembled, and owned the new Sway of the axes And Fasces of Rome. Weep, weep for the man Who, with such speed as Never another Causes decided, Heard he but one side, Heard he e'en no side. Who now will judge us? All the year over List to our lawsuits? Now shall give way to thee, Quit his tribunal, He who gives law in the Empire of silence, Prince of Cretan Cities a hundred. Beat, beat your breasts now, Wound them in sorrow, All ye pleaders Crooked and venal; Newly-fledged poets Swell the lament; More than all others, Lift your sad voices, Ye who made fortunes, Rattling the dice-box. When Claudius arrives in the nether regions, a choir of singers hasten towards him, crying: "He is found!--joy! joy!" [This was the cry of the Egyptians when they found the ox Apis.] He is now surrounded by those whom he had caused to be put to death, Polybius and his other freedmen appearing among the rest. Æacus, as judge, examines into the actions of his life, and finds that he has murdered thirty senators, three hundred and fifteen knights, and citizens as the sands of the sea. He thereupon pronounces sentence on Claudius, and dooms him to cast dice eternally from a box with holes in it. Suddenly Caligula appears, and claims him as his slave. He produces witnesses, who prove that he had frequently beat, boxed, and horsewhipped his uncle Claudius; and as nobody seems able to dispute this, Claudius is handed over to Caligula. Caligula presents him to his freedman Menander, whom he is now to help in drawing out law-papers. Such is a sketch of this remarkable "Apokolokyntosis of Claudius." Seneca, who had basely flattered the Emperor while alive, was also mean enough to drag him through the mire after he was dead. A noble soul does not take revenge on the corpse of its foe, even though that foe may have been but the parody of a man, and as detestable as he was ridiculous. The insults of the coward alone are here in place. The Apokolokyntosis faithfully reflects the degenerate baseness of Imperial Rome. CHAPTER VII. SENECA EROE.