I lived in ivory palaces of delight;
I ruled an empire ... here is all my might;
An old and wearied man in a bare tent,
Whence, presently, I shall go out to die.
How they will rage at Rome! Each will outvie
The next in fury: none will dare lament.
Caesar will listen with a little smile,
A smile like two blue ice-cliffs as they part,
Slow-rising from the deep caves of his heart.
Pompey will bow his great gold head awhile,