Meter 9

We all have heard what hateful deeds
Far and near Nero wrought,
King of the Romans, when that his rule
Was first under heaven, fatal to many.
The fierce one’s madness men widely knew,
His lawless lust and laches unnumbered,
His sins and murders, misdeeds many,
The cursed wiles of that wicked one.
He bade for his sport with fire destroy
The city of Rome that was the seat
Of full dominion, for in his folly
He fain would try whether the fire,

Flaming brightly, would burn as long,
Would rage as red, as the Romans told
That Troy town was of old o’ertaken

By the brightest of flames that longest burned
In homes under heaven. A hideous thing,
To take his pleasure in such perilous sport,
Nought else gaining, this only regarding,
To make his power far over peoples
Widely renowned, over the nations.
It likewise betided once on a time
That this same man sent to murder
All the rulers of the Senate of Rome,

And all the best by birth as well
That he could find among his folk ;

And his own brother besides he bade,
Yea, and his mother, be murdered with swords,
Killed with blade-edge. He himself butchered
His bride with the brand, and ever was blither,
Gayer of mood, the more of such murder,
Such hateful wrong, he wrought on mortals.
Nought did he heed whether hereafter
The mighty Master would mete out vengeance,
Wreak on the wicked their wrongful deeds,
But in his soul was glad of his guile and sins,
Bloodthirsty ever. But notwithstanding,
He governed all of this glorious world,
Where air and sea encircle the land
And the deep sea enringeth this realm of mortals,
The seats of men, south, east and west,
Right to the northmost nesses of earth.
All bowed to Nero, for need or pleasure ;
None was there of men but must obey him.

When his pride was highest ’twas a pretty jest
How the kings of the earth he killed and harried !
Dost thou gainsay that God Almighty

Could most readily wrest his power
From the boastful scourge, and strip him bare
Of all dominion through the might eternal,
Or utterly curb the course of his sins?

Oh, that He would only, as He easily might,
All such felony fain forbid him!
Oh, ’twas no light yoke which that lord planted,
A grievous annoy, on the necks of his thanes,
Of all his lieges that in his lifetime
O’er this brittle world were fated to bide!
He with the gore of guiltless men
Fouled his sword-blade, full many ’s the time.
Thus we see clearly, as we have oft said,
That dominion can do no good
If he that hath gained it have no good will.