Nero was convulsed with laughter throughout, and was equally delighted by the insults upon his predecessor and the flattery of himself.
When the speaker’s voice ceased, a burst of applause came from the lips of the hearers; and Lucan turned to the gratified Nero and repeated the lines which described his radiant beauty, his song, and the brilliant prognostications of his coming reign.
‘Yes,’ said Otho; ‘that is true poetry—
‘“Such is our Cæsar; such, O happy Rome,
Thy radiant Nero gilds his Palace home;
His gentle looks with tempered splendour shine,
Round his fair neck his golden tresses twine.”’—
and, in the intimacy of friendship, he ventured to pass his hand over the soft golden hair which flowed over the neck of the proud and happy youth.
‘How witty it is, and how powerful!’ said Petronius. ‘Who could have written it?’
Lucan gave a meaning smile. He had not been dismissed from the Villa Castor with the other guests, because the Emperor, although jealous of him, could not help admiring his fiery, original, and declamatory genius.