The Sword of Cæsar Borgia

Well hath the graver traced thee, sword of mine! Here Cæsar by the Rubicon's slow deeps Ponders; here resolute to empire leaps, And far and near the smitten waters shine.

The vanquished train's interminable line Wends at his wheels up Capitolian steeps; And round the interlacing legend creeps, Cæsar or nothing! saith Duke Valentine

And did I bare thee to the sun, my blade, Fired at the flash all Italy should thrill, And many a city quake and province bow. Yet is a drop within this vial stayed That should the might of marching armies still, And stainless sheathe ten thousand such as thou.