Postscriptum

I, Adam, saw this life begin
And lived in Eden without sin,
Until the fruit of knowledge I ate
And lost my gracious primal state.

I, Nero, fiddled while Rome burned :
I saw my empire overturned,
And proudly to my murderers cried —
An artist dies in me ! — and died.

And though sometimes in swoon of sense
I now regain my innocence,
I pay still for my knowledge, and still
Remain the fool of good and ill.

And though my tyrant days are o'er
I earn my tyrant's fate the more
If now secure within my walls
I fiddle while my country falls.