IV Demetrius for Eudocia Betrays Constantine
Now a war like distant thunder muttered in the darkened air;
In the sky a fowl of omen hovered o’er to rob our graves;
And men, like birds affrighted, hurried homeward in despair.
We heard the tramp of armies like the far-off march of waves.
War a pestilent disease is on the body of the world—
A disease that sometimes purges, but still leaves the victim sore;
And no potent drug will cure it until Liberty has furled
All the standards of the nations, and shall rule for evermore.
What availed my marble buildings where I bartered for my gold?
All my gains were vainly gotten, for Eudocia was not mine.
Then my goods I turned to money, all my ships and houses sold,
And sent the glittering product far away from Constantine.
On us like a wild hawk swooping came Damrémont with his men;
But we saw his wing-like banners and we closed and barred the gates;
All the women urged to battle; every man a hero then;
And the Kabyles based reliance on the friendship of the Fates.
I held that love of country was a higher love of self,
With generous ends, but selfish still, whatever might be said;
I forgot my boasted honor; I had garnered all my pelf;
I became a hissing traitor to the land I owed my bread.
All was plain; if I was faithful, then Eudocia was lost;
Recreant, and gaining victory, I could claim her as my right.
I scarcely weighed the balance, and I dared not count the cost;
I stole out from the city to the alien camp that night.
I was loyal to the purpose that within my heart was shrined;
Another might have coped with it, and triumphed o’er its fall.
So men are, they do not vary much, the level of mankind,
What one lacks the next possesses; there are faults enough in all.
Down the cliff I slipped in silence; and the troubled cypress leaves
Quivered like sweet lips in anguish, while the star eyes wept with dew;
And I sought the French commander, where, amid his musket sheaves,
He sat and planned new reaping in a field that Azrael knew.
“I have come to bring assistance, if you take my terms,” I said,
“For I know the weakest portion of the city’s scowling wall.
There’s a maiden named Eudocia I would sell my soul to wed;
Give me the right to have her, and I freely tell you all.”
Then he smiled across his table as he granted my desire—
Smile of memory begotten, some remembrance of delight—
And he heard my story quietly, but said he would require
Me to go into the city as a spy the coming night.