Scuttled and buried in a sea of glass
By her own master! It will cost me pain.
Better a night of lightning-riven rain
With hell-hounds baying in the driven gloom!
Anicetus
The will of Nero is her wind of doom—
Woe to the seaman who defies that gale!
Go now—make ready that we may not fail
To crown the wish of Caesar with the deed.
Captain