Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/322

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Whose heart is free from mad desires;
Whom vain ambition moveth not, 350
Nor fickle favor of the mob.
The hidden treasures of the west
Move not his heart, nor sands of gold
Which Tagus' waters sweep along
Within their shining bed; 355
Nor yet the garnered wealth of grain
Trod out on Libyan threshing-floors.
He fears no hurtling thunderbolt
In zig-zag course athwart the sky;
No Eurus ruffling up the sea, 360
Nor the heaving Adriatic's waves,
Windswept and mad before the blast;
No hostile spear, nor keen, bare sword
Can master him; but, set on high,
In calm serenity he sees 365
All things of earth beneath his feet.
And so with joy he goes to meet
His fate, and welcomes death.
In vain 'gainst him would kings contend,
Though from all lands they congregate—
They who the scattered Dacians lead; 370
Who dwell upon the red sea's marge
Whose depths are set with gleaming pearls;
Or who, secure on Caspian heights,
Leave all unclosed their mountain ways
Against the bold Sarmatians; 375
They who through Danube's swelling waves
Dare make their way with fearless feet,
And, wheresoe'er they dwell, despoil
The famed and far-off Serians:
In vain all these, for 'tis the soul 380
That makes the king. He needs no arms,
No steeds, no ineffectual darts
Such as the Parthian hurls from far
In simulated flight; for him
No engines huge with far-hurled rocks 385
Lay waste the hostile city's walls.