Otho
Thou wert not, Cassius, and thou couldst not be,Last of the Romans, though thy memory claimFrom Brutus his own glory--and on theeRests the full splendour of his sacred fame:Nor he who dared make the foul tyrant quailAmid his cowering senate with thy name,Though thou and he were great--it will availTo thine own fame that Otho's should not fail.
'Twill wrong thee not--thou wouldst, if thou couldst feel,Abjure such envious fame--great Otho diedLike thee--he sanctified his country's steel,At once the tyrant and tyrannicide,In his own blood--a deed it was to bringTears from all men--though full of gentle pride,Such pride as from impetuous love may spring,That will not be refused its offering.
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