With the splendors of thy smile
I can scorn the Senate's triumphs,
Triumphing in love like thine.
Ah! no more amid the battle
Shall my heart exulting swell:
Isis and Osiris guard thee!
Cleopatra--Rome--farewell!
Thus perished the great Triumvir, dying like a Roman, whose blinded but persistent love, whatever were its elements, ever shall make his name memorable. All the ages will point to him as a man who gave the world away for the caresses of a woman, and a woman who deceived and ruined him.
As for her,--this selfish, heartless sorceress, gifted and beautiful as she was,--what does she do when she sees her lover dead,--dying for her? Does she share his fate? Not she. What selfish woman ever killed herself for love?