The Lament of Calpurnia

“Beware the Ides of March!” I said,
But Caesar did not heed.
“You will not go to the Senate!” I begged,
Yet he ignored my pleas.

Yes, I, Calpurnia, his wife,
Tried to stop him that day.
Tried to keep him from the Senate and save his life,
But he would have it no other way.

I’d dreamt a terrible dream that night,
Wake’d sweating in my bed.
Ghouls and goblins had given me a fright,
“Beware the Ides of March!” they said.

I plead and I begged for it to be another way,
But before my very eyes,
They took my beloved Caesar away,
E’en though I wept and I cried.

When Helios rose over the Tiber,
My maid brought me wine and bread.
“What day is it?” I inquired of her.
“Why, it’s the Ides of March!” she said.

Fearful of this dreadful omen,
I fell at Caesar’s feet.
“I fear for the plans of evil men,
friends you go to meet!”

“Behold, my dear, forward I go!”
He cried with courage in his voice.
"The Ides of March holds no woe,
To go is my own choice!”

“Trust not Brutus, Cassius, Trebonius!”
I, with tears, pled.
“Casca, Cinna, Ligarius—
Murderers!” I begged.

“Do not trouble yourself, my dear wife!”
Caesar calmed my panic.
“To these men, I’d trust my life!
Some wine, my dear; there’s no need to be frantic.”

“Decius, Cimber, Metellus!"
I cried as I tore at my hair in fear.
"They have no desire for your success!"
I wailed for all to hear.

“My dear, do not speak so!”
Caesar cried in horror.
“To the Senate I must go!”
He retreated to the door.

 “No, my love, stay, I plead!”
I knelt upon the ground.
Then tripping, bending like a reed,
The world whirling ‘round.

Then I heard voice of my true love,
One last lovely time.
Ringing as an angel from above,
The call of a man in his prime:

“Take my lady to her chamber,
For she is not well!
Although I love her with all ardor,
No danger I foretell!”

And as he stepped out to the street,
I gave a terrible cry.
Driven mad by defeat,
I slumped senseless with a sigh.

And so my love strode forth that day,
To meet comrades of old.
But they his friendship did betray,
And stabbed him with their swords.

And when I wake’d later that day,
And heard the dreadful tidings,
How Caesar that morning had been slain,
And now his friends were coming

To inflict the same bitter end on me,
His loyal wife and friend.
As his life faded with a cry,
So mine soon would end.
 
And here I lie upon my bed,
Waiting for Death’s hand.
“Beware the Ides of March!” they said,
“The betrayal of a friend!”