_As he began; and not unknit, himself,_
_The noble knot he made_." So they'll whine out
The smug SICINIUSES. But what I wonder
If once again the Volscians make new head!
Who, "like an eagle in a dovecote," then
Will flutter them and discipline AUFIDIUS?
An eagle! Shall I spurn my shadow, then
Trample my own projection? So they babble
Who'd silence me, make this my mouthpiece[1] mute;
Who prate of prosecution--banishment,
Perchance, anon, for me, as for the Roman,
Because "I cannot brook to be commanded
Under COMINIUS." What said VOLUMNIA
To her imperious son? "_The man was noble,_
_But with his last attempt he wiped it out;_
_Destroy'd his country; and his name remains_
_To the ensuing age abhorr'd._" I would not have
My own VIRGILIA say so--she who frets,
At my colossal chafing. ARNIM's shade
Would mock my fall; but silent Friedrichsruh
Irks me, whilst lesser spirits so misshape
My vast designs, whose shadow, dwarfed, distorted,
I trample in my anger, thus--thus--thus!

[Footnote 1: The _Hamburger Nachrichten_, in whose columns (says the
_Times_) Prince BISMARCK, according to the friends of the Government,
"inspires incessant attacks upon the Imperial Policy, domestic,
foreign, and colonial, and especially upon the proceedings of his
successor, General CAPRIVI."]