Thou wilt not be consoled--I wonder not! _10
For I have seen thee from thy dwelling's door
Watch the calm sunset with them, and this spot
Was even as bright and calm, but transitory,
And now thy hopes are gone, thy hair is hoary;
This most familiar scene, my pain-- _15
These tombs--alone remain.

NOTE:
_5 calls editions 1839; called 1824.

***


OTHO.

[Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition.]

1.
Thou wert not, Cassius, and thou couldst not be,
Last of the Romans, though thy memory claim
From Brutus his own glory--and on thee
Rests the full splendour of his sacred fame:
Nor he who dared make the foul tyrant quail _5
Amid his cowering senate with thy name,
Though thou and he were great--it will avail
To thine own fame that Otho's should not fail.

2.
'Twill wrong thee not--thou wouldst, if thou couldst feel,