from 'Myrene'

Just for fun. I thought that it would be amusing to add this nasty little bit of scribbling that I wrote years ago.

Just to show that I am not always sweetness and light...

Yes, Steve, you will be surprised to learn that even I have feet of clay.

They bound ribbons round my temples

And the air was sweet with the scent

Of the crushed flowers that lay

Beneath our feet.

Triumphal returning from where

Sullen crowds watched as I rode;

Hair thickly matted on those temples

Blood and sweat mingled,

Coursing down my face

And the stench of death

From a country prostrate

Beneath my heel.

They say that when we offered

Thanks to the Gods

And smoke hung heavy over

The city not yet awake,

A black bitch that had preceded

Us into battle turned upon her mate

And killed him.

Then with the blood still on

Her muzzle, she whelped.