THE FLUTE-BOY.
The great lord Cesar Julius
Crossed the Rubicon—
The army was great,
It passed in state:
And the host was gone.
There was none to see
That mighty lord;
The light on his face,
The light on his sword,
—And the history.
But a child on the bank
Of the Rubicon,
On his knees he sank,
He stooped and drank,
For his heart was faint that his lord was gone.
[The Shepherds all weep.
CESARE.
[Embracing the boy.] A master!—he shall sing you all I am.
And now I pass to Rome, without farewell,
For I am dwelling here and in your midst,
And with you through all ages, in your music,
Your sorrows, with the shadows on the hills,
So close to you, a presence in your hearts.
O my Romagna, there is no farewell! [Exit.
A SHEPHERD.
He has slipped away: I knew he was a god.
Boy, are you stricken? You should look up proudly.