OTHO.

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

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.

‘ Twill wrong thee not — thou wouldst, if thou couldst feel,

Abjure such envious fame — great Otho died

Like thee — he sanctified his country's steel,

At once the tyrant and tyrannicide,

In his own blood — a deed it was to bring

Tears from all men — though full of gentle pride,

Such pride as from impetuous love may spring,

That will not be refused its offering.