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Antony's Lament
Dumb mouths gape.
Noble ichor,
Rushing to escape,
With unholy vigour.
And from whence
Was this blood let?
---From noble Caesar,
Was this blood spent;
The grim pall his sheet,
The sepulcher, his bed.
But Ate will ride,
Hot on traitors’ heel,
Crying ‘Havoc’
With fury, and zeal
Flay and peel
Unkind cutters
And through Rome’s gutters,
Drag traitors’ names,
Besmirching their fame
No longer,
Are his many mouths dumb,
For I am his rage
And I will be his tongue.
----This I swear,
Lest my name not be,
Caesar’s love, ward, and page,
His Marc Antony.
Noble ichor,
Rushing to escape,
With unholy vigour.
And from whence
Was this blood let?
---From noble Caesar,
Was this blood spent;
The grim pall his sheet,
The sepulcher, his bed.
But Ate will ride,
Hot on traitors’ heel,
Crying ‘Havoc’
With fury, and zeal
Flay and peel
Unkind cutters
And through Rome’s gutters,
Drag traitors’ names,
Besmirching their fame
No longer,
Are his many mouths dumb,
For I am his rage
And I will be his tongue.
----This I swear,
Lest my name not be,
Caesar’s love, ward, and page,
His Marc Antony.
Published 8th Aug 2015
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