46 BACCHIC HYMN TO THE IMAGE OF DEATH. 



" Lepidus. He brings v^ith him Clodius, the 

 surest better in Pompeii, and the young Greek 

 Glaucus/' 



" A wager on a wager," cried Tetraides : " Clodius 

 bets on me, for twenty sesterces, what say you, 

 Lydon?" 



" He bets on mCy^ said Lydon. 



" No, on /we," grunted Sporus. 



^^ Dolts, do you think he would prefer any of you 

 to Niger?" said the athletic, thus modestly naming 

 himself. 



"Well, well," said Stratonice, as she pierced a 

 huge amphora jfor her guests, who had now seated 

 themselves before one of the tables, " great men and 

 brave, as ye all think yourselves, which of you will 

 fight the Numidian lion, in case no malefactor should 

 be found to deprive you of the option V 



" I who have escaped your arms, stout Strato- 

 nice," said Lydon, " might safely, I think, encounter 

 the lion." 



BULWER. 



BACCHIC HYMN TO THE IMAGE OF 

 DEATH. 



Thou art in the land of the shadowy Host, 



Thou that didst drink and love ; 

 By the Solemn River, a gliding ghost, 

 But thy thought is ours above ! 

 If memory yet can fly 

 Back to the golden sky, 

 And mourn the pleasures lost ! 

 By the ruined hall these flowers we lay, 

 Where thy soul once held its palace ; 

 When the rose to thy scent and sight was gay, 

 And the smile was in the chalice, 



And the cithara's silver voice 

 Could bid thy heart rejoice 

 When night eclipsed the day. 



Death, death is the gloomy shore. 

 Where we all sail, 



