I had dared all for power: but there was my love for you —
You of the proven worth and the grey, unfaltering eye.
So I set my teeth and joined in the battle we must needs rue,
And a ghostly raven shrieks at the shadows on Philippi.
Caesar or twenty Caesars, I had toppled them down from the throne,
I who could bide my time and trick a knave as my tool;
But yours was the will of madness. And when was your will but mine own?
So the name of Cassius lives as the name of a beaten fool.
When that in Rome to-day they speak of the heroes of old —
Men who drew sword for Freedom, and struck, and the blow was true —
Well would it be if they raised your likeness in beaten gold;
Staunch were you still in her service . . . even as I was to you.