CHAPTER VIII.--ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.

Forgotten of Rome! Antony, thou true son of Mars! The invincible leader of so many wars; A loiterer at Alexandria on the Nile, Lost to the witchery of a fair woman’s guile. Cleopatra, thou famed wonder of the world! For whom men went mad of love, and, reckless, hurled Honor and fame and manhood at thy peerless feet-- Very slaves if they but win thy soft smile, replete With fascination; and as the bees about a flower Of poison petals, benumbed is every power.

Are there no modern Cleopatras in our day That enslave, and even men’s honor steal away? Just as wily and just as cunning in their guile; Just as witching and just as false their winning smile. And they lure and beckon onward just as well, Insidiously leading down to death and hell. Are there no Antonys from lofty heights to fall, That listen to the witching, wily siren’s call?

Lovely woman! thy thralling power ’s half divine. Thou canst lift weak man up to heights that are sublime, Or hurl him down from duty’s high and wide estate, And destroy the powers of the gifted, good and great. Why not use the subtle influence given thee To ennoble and sustain in blameless purity? And thus walking blameless a beacon on life’s shore, “A thing of beauty and a joy for evermore.”