Has he beheld the glittering front of war?
Knows his soft ear the trumpet's thrilling voice,
And outcry of the battle? Have his limbs.
Sweat under iron harness? Is he not
The silken son of dalliance, nurs'd in ease.
And pleasure's flow'ry lap?-Rubellius lives,
And Sylla has his friends, though school'd by fear
To bow the supple knee, and court the times
With shows of fair obeisance; and a call,

Like mine, might serve belike to wake pretensions
Drowsier than theirs, who boast the genuine blood
Of our imperial house.

ACERONIA.

Did I not wish to check this dangerous passion,

I might remind my mistress that her nod

95

100

105

Can rouse eight hardy legions, wont to stem

With stubborn nerves the tide, and face the rigour

Of bleak Germania's snows. Four, not less brave,

110

That in Armenia quell the Parthian force
Under the warlike Corbulo, by you

Mark'd for their leader: these, by ties confirm'd,
Of old respect and gratitude, are yours.
Surely the Masians too, and those of Egypt,
Have not forgot your sire: the eye of Rome,
And the Prætorian camp have long rever'd,

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NOTES.

Ver. 110. Not less brave, &c.] But Tacitus says: "Sed Corbuloni plus molis adversus ignaviam militum, quam contra perfidiam hostium, erat." Annales, xiii. 35.

With custom'd awe, the daughter, sister, wife,
And mother of their Cæsars.

AGRIPPINA.

Ha! by Juno,

It bears a noble semblance. On this base
My great revenge shall rise; or say we sound

120

The trump of liberty; there will not want,

Even in the servile senate, ears to own

Her spirit-stirring voice; Soranus there,

And Cassius; Vetus too, and Thrasea,

125

Minds of the antique cast, rough, stubborn souls,

That struggle with the yoke. How shall the spark

Unquenchable, that glows within their breasts,

Blaze into freedom, when the idle herd
(Slaves from the womb, created but to stare,
And bellow in the Circus) yet will start,
And shake 'em at the name of liberty,
Stung by a senseless word, a vain tradition,
As there were magic in it? Wrinkled beldams
Teach it their grandchildren, as somewhat rare

Ver. 118. The daughter, sister, wife]

NOTES.

130

135

That anciently appear'd, but when, extends
Beyond their chronicle-oh! 'tis a cause
To arm the hand of childhood, and rebrace
The slacken'd sinews of time-wearied age.

Yes, we may meet, ungrateful boy, we may!
Again the buried genius of old Rome
Shall from the dust uprear his reverend head,
Rous'd by the shout of millions: there before
His high tribunal thou and I appear.
Let majesty sit on thy awful brow,

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145

And lighten from thy eye: around thee call

The gilded swarm that wantons in the sunshine
Of thy full favour; Seneca be there

In gorgeous phrase of labour'd eloquence

To dress thy plea, and Burrhus strengthen it
With his plain soldier's oath, and honest seeming.
Against thee, liberty and Agrippina :

150

The world, the prize; and fair befall the victors.
But soft! why do I waste the fruitless hours
In threats unexecuted? Haste thee, fly

155

NOTES.

Ver. 147. The gilded swarm that wantons in the sunshine]

"The swarm that in thy noontide beam were born,"

Bard.

Ver. 148. Seneca] "Hi rectores imperatoriæ juventæ, et pari in societate potentiæ, concordes, diversâ arte, ex æquo pollebant. Burrus militaribus curis, et severitate morum: Seneca præceptis eloquentiæ, et comitate honestâ." Taciti Annales, xiii. c. 2. Ver. 150. And Burrhus strengthen it] So in the speech of Burrhus in the Britannicus of Racine, act i. sc. 2:

"Je répondrai, madame, avec la liberté

And again, act i. sc. 2:

D'un soldat, que sait mal farder la vérité."

"Burrhus pour le mensonge, eut toujours trop d'horreur."

These hated walls that seem to mock my shame,
And cast me forth in duty to their lord.

ACERONIA.

'Tis time to go, the sun is high advanc'd, And, ere mid-day, Nero will come to Baiæ.

AGRIPPINA.

My thought aches at him; not the basilisk
More deadly to the sight, than is to me
The cool injurious eye of frozen kindness.
I will not meet its poison. Let him feel
Before he sees me.

ACERONIA.

Why then stays my sovereign,

Where he so soon may

AGRIPPINA.

Yes, I will be gone,

But not to Antium-all shall be confess'd,

Whate'er the frivolous tongue of giddy fame

Has spread among the crowd; things, that but whisper'd

Have arch'd the hearer's brow, and riveted

His eyes in fearful extasy: no matter

What; so't be strange, and dreadful.—Sorceries,

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165

170

NOTES.

Ver. 169. Have arch'd the hearer's brow]

"Whom have I hurt? has poet yet or peer
Lost the arch'd eyebrow, or Parnassian sneer?"

Pope's Prolog, to the Satires, ver. 95.

Assassinations, poisonings-the deeper
My guilt, the blacker his ingratitude.

And you, ye manes of ambition's victims,
Enshrined Claudius, with the pitied ghosts
Of the Syllani, doom'd to early death,
(Ye unavailing horrors, fruitless crimes!)

If from the realms of night my voice ye hear,
In lieu of penitence, and vain remorse,

175

Accept my vengeance. Though by me ye bled,
He was the cause. My love, my fears for him,
Dried the soft springs of pity in my heart,
And froze them up with deadly cruelty.
Yet if your injur'd shades demand my fate,
If murder cries for murder, blood for blood,
Let me not fall alone; but crush his pride,
And sink the traitor in his mother's ruin.

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