Come see thy Rome that mourning all alone
Weepeth, a widow, calling day and night,
Why, O my Cæsar, dost thou leave thine own?
Come see what love there—how all hearts unite!
And if no pity move thee at our moan
Blush for thy fame beholding such a sight.
And, lawful if I speak, O most high Jove
Who wast for our sakes crucified on earth,
Are thy just eyes who watchest men above
Turned elsewhere?—Or is this before the birth