Lucius Junius Brutus

Man's love of life beyond even life extends, Begins with breath, nor leaves him when it ends: Pleas'd with renew'd existence, he believes A second being in his heirs revives. Yet see relentless Brutus, plac'd on high, Devote his sons to death, and view them die. Their youth, their conscious shame for the offence, Turn advocates more strong than innocence; And soft compassion had their doom delay'd, But oh! the inexorable father sway'd. Not instantaneous were the sufferers' pains; The lictor's scourge first tore their spouting veins; Then stooping mangled to the bloody block, Their forfeit necks receiv'd the severing stroke. Unmov'd he sat; while tears and groans confess'd The heaving pangs of every other breast. O heart of triple brass! can love of fame Extinguish nature, to exalt a name? Serenely could thine eye a sight behold, Which chills the stranger's vital tide, when told? What praise, alas! can fortitude receive, Which none would imitate, nor all believe? Take then, inhuman! thy ambition's lot; Thy pride's remember'd, and their crime forgot. Amazement fill'd the throng;—the general ire Was lost in horrour at the obdurate sire; While justice, pausing, trembled to divide The patriot's title with the parricide. Preposterous scene! Consul rever'd and curst; Faithful to Rome, to nature's laws unjust! Posterity the dread award repeals; More for the traitors than the judge she feels; Averts with shuddering awe th'astonish'd gaze, And gives, at best, but wonder for thy praise. Had any voice but thine pronounc'd their doom, No pitying sigh had grac'd their guilty tomb: Had other eyes at their sad fate look'd on, The tears of Rome had fall'n for thee alone; But in thy children's vital blood array'd,— Stern justice turns a monster, so display'd. Virtues o'erstrain'd, like strings in musick, fly, Or, jarring, spoil sweet nature's harmony; And actions, where humanity must frown, Excite but horror, not deserve renown.