Her blood is blood of Ptolemy-
There's nothing pharaoh in her veins.
Yet she, the queen conscripting me,
Commands I put my own in chains!
What more- forlorn and worn by war-
I weary bore her wretched times.
Audacity decreed: No more!
And so I fled her House of Crimes.
Now seven years have gone and fled-
And I the post that she commands-
And though she seeks my paltry head
She’ll never find it in these lands ...
For I am fled beyond the Rhine,
Beyond her foreign yoke and rod,
Into a wilderness divine
Where freedom is my only god.
And still I feel her brooding skies
Are peering on this smold’ring hearth ...
Her malice and her livid eyes
They curse the Phoenix of my birth.
-jwm
4 comments:
Omitted introductory line:
The memory's no distant thing-
It weeping calls from corners faint-
For Egypt lacks a native a king,
And hard is squandered- sole complaint!
Omitted concluding lines:
Man
But Nuit, I know thy quiet sky,
That none thy peaceful night can steal-
But should her soldiers hither ply,
The soldier that I was will kill.
Nuit
Then sleep on soldier through the night-
Let all thy slumbers pain assuage.
Should war-lust bring to thee its fight
Then come thou forth in waking rage.
The image of Cleopatra is from a painting done by my favorite Pre-Raphaelite artist, John William Waterhouse.
Did you happen to notice how the Cleopatra painting looks very similar - though female - to your own photo used in your "About Me"?
A very interesting observation Nancy. I love Waterhouse. And this poem of yours John is exquisite! You have such skill with words! Their poetic weave you give them delights me. Truly. A gift!
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