The Madisonian. (Virginia City, Mont.) 1873-1915, 1896-06-13
Marc Antony.

Mare Antony.
IT'S vain, Fonteius! As the half tanned steed.
Scouting the desert, lashes madly out
And strains and storms and struggles to bS
freed.
Shaking his rafting harness all about,
So. fercer for restraint, here In my breast
Hot passion RACES, firing every thought.
For what Ia honor. prudence. interest.
To the wild strength Of lover Oh. best Of life,
Ny Joy. bliss. triumph, glory. my souls wife.
My Cleopatra. I desire thee 20
That all restraints to the wild winds I throwi
Come what will, come life, come death. to me
IT'S equal IL again I look on thee.
Away, Fonteiusl Tell her that I rage
With MADNESS for her. Nothing can assuage
Tho strong desire. the torment. the 6eroe
stress
That whirls my thoughts round and innAmes
my brain
But her great ardent eyes-dark eyes that draw
Ny being 10 them with q subtle law
And an almost divine imperiousness.
Tell her I do not live until / feel
The thrill Of her wild touch. that through each
vein
Electric shoots it's lightning, and again
Hear those low tones of hers. although they
steal.
As by some serpent charm. my will away
And wreck my manhood.
Oh, Octavial
u \ ~ lux 80Alo 0ICp cO "OASC VA1UA UAl
Life is too short to waste in loves pretense.
In the bleak shadow Of Indifference.
And ~you-what are you but a CALLING chain2
I hate you that I cannot hate you more;
Even hate for you is only cold and dull
Cold as your heart and dull as is your sense.
We're you but savage. wicked to the core.
Less pious, prudish, prudent, made to rule.
I might have loved or hated more, but now
Nothing on earth seems half 80 deadly chill
As your insipid smile and placid brow,
Your glacial goodness and proprieties.
Tell my dear serpent l must see her, fill
My eyes with the glad light of her great eyeGi
Though death, dishonor, anything you will,
Staid in the wayl Aye, by my soul, disgrace
Is better in the sun of Egypt's face
Than pomp or power in this detested place!
Oh, for the wine my queen alone can pour
From her rich nature! Let me starve no more
On this weak tepid drink that never warns
My lifeblood, but away with shan.s and forms!
Away with Rome! One hour in Esypt's eyes
Is worth a score of Roman centuries.
Away, Fonteius! Tell her tn ! see
Those eyes [ do not live; th..t Rome to NE
Is hateful. Tell her-oh, l know not what
That every thought and feeling, space and spot,
Is like an ugly dream where she is not,
All persons plaques, all doings wearisomc,
AL talking empty. All these fcasts an!
friends,
1OcSc slaves anu COuTtleIo, pIiltcs, p0lstcGS,
This Caesar, with his selfish aims and ends,
His oily ways and sleek hypocrisics;
This Lepidus, and, worse than all by far.
This mawkish, pious, prude Octavia.
Are bonds and letters, tedious as disease,
Not worth the parings Of her finger nails.
Oh, for the breath Of Egypt, the soft nights
OF the voluptuous east, the dear delights
We tasted there, the lotus perfumed gales
That dream along the low shores Of the Nile
And softly futter in the langu;d sails!
Oh. for the queen Of all, for the rich smile
That CLOVIS like autumn over Ecr dark face,
For her large nature, her enci ntiE, grace,
Her arms, that are away so m;..ly ii mile!
Away, Fonteius! Lose no hour; make sail:
Weigh anchor on the instant: WOO Il gale
To blow you to herl Tell her i sail he
Close on your very heels across tle sea,
Praying that Neptune send ms storms as strors
A passion is to sweep me swift along
TIL the white spray sing whlsSii!-s round my
PROV
And the waves earsle meath the keel's shar.
pillow.
Fly, 6y, Fonteiusi When I think Of her
Ny soul within my body Ia sstir.
Ny wild blood pulses. and my hot checks glow
Love with it, madness overwhelms ne 20
That Lob. 60. l say! Fonteiusa goL
| w. ". Story.