Triumphs—St. Peter!...
In a bossy car,
Its base the wide spine of an elephant,
Rode Alexander into Babylon,
Invincible, my namesake and a god.
But not for me the riding, not the shouts,
Though mine the empire: it is Cesar, Cesar,
Who comes to Rome, and this is Cesar’s triumph.
The chariots and the laurels and the helmets,
The antique cuirasses and helmets—laurels
Fresh from my gardens: we will act it all
Before the eye to-morrow, and translate
This modern triumph into classic glory,
As epitaphs go down in sounding Latin
To generations after. Cesar’s Triumph!
Burcardus shall arrange the pomp, the order,
The circuit of the pageant. Alexander ... Cesar ...
Cesar....
[The cannon boom, all rush to the Loggia.
LUCREZIA.
[Running to her father as if for protection.
O Holiness, but he is coming now!
Oh!
ALEXANDER.
Out to the Loggia! Cease your clinging, child!
You check my haste, you flutter,
And check me.
[There is tumult of cannon, shouting and trumpet-blasts.
[In the Loggia.] O my lords, where is he, where?
[Looking down.] My God, what splendour! But ...