From my villa on the hill I long looked down
Upon the muttering town;
Then one day drew (life sight-sick, dull hope shed)
My toga o'er my head
(The simplest gesture being the greatest thing)
Like a raised wing.
IV
Not Cecrops kept my bees. My olives bore
Oil like the sun. My several herd lowed far.
The breathing traveller rested by my door.
The wet earth smells still; dead ray nostrils are.
V
I conquered. Far barbarians hear my name.
Men were dice in my game,
But to my throw myself did lesser come:
I threw dice, Fate the sum.
VI
Some were as loved, some as prizes prized.
A natural wife to the fed man my mate,
I was sufficient to whom I sufficed.
I moved, slept, bore and aged without a fate.
VII
I put by pleasure like an alien bowl.
Stern, separate, mine, I looked towards where gods seem.
From behind me the common shadow stole.
Dreaming that I slept not, I slept my dream.