Classic and Contemporary Poetry
BRUTUS AND ANTONY, by EDGAR LEE MASTERS Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: How shall I write this out? I do not write Last Line: Than brutus left it. Subject(s): Antony, Marc (83-30 B.c.); Brutus, Marcus Junius (85 B.c.- 42 B.c.) ; Marcus Antonius; Anthony, Mark | ||||||||
Part I (Lucilius Talks at a Feast Given to Aristocrates in Rome) B. C. 20 How shall I write this out? I do not write. Talk to you? Yes, and tell of Antony, And how I knew him. There at Philippi I let myself be captured, so to give Time to escape to Brutus -- made pretense That I was Brutus, and so Brutus flies And I am captured. Antony forgives me, And to his death I was his faithful friend. Well, after Actium, in Africa, He roamed with no companions but us two, Our friend Aristocrates, here, myself, And fed upon his bitter heart. Our guest Nods truth to what I say, he knows it all. And after certain days in solitude He seeks his Cleopatra. As for her, She was the sovereign queen of many nations; Yet that she might be with her Antony, Live with him and enjoy him, did not shun The name of mistress, and let Fulvia keep Her wifehood without envy. As for him, A lover's soul lives in the loved one's body, And where bode Cleopatra, there his soul Lived only, though his feet of flesh pursued The Parthian, or Caesar's hateful heir.... And if this Antony would wreathe his spear With ivy like a thyrsus; from the chamber Of his beloved rush to battle, helmet Smelling of unguents and of Egypt; leave Great action and great enterprise to play Along the seashore of Canopus with her; And fly the combat, not as Paris did, Already beaten, with lift sail, desert The victory that was his, yet true it is His rank, his eloquence, his liberal blood, His interest in all grades and breeds of men, His pity and his kindness to the sick, His generous sympathies, stamped Antony A giant in this dusty, roaring place Which we call earth. Who ruined Antony? Why, Brutus! For he gave to Antony The truth of which the Queen of Egypt stood As proof in the flesh: -- Beauty and Life. His heart Was apt to see her for mad days in Rome, And soul created sateless for the cup Of ecstasy in living. On a day Myself and Aristocrates and Antony, We two companioning him in Africa, Wandering in solitary places, Antony Brooding on Actium, and the love that kept His soul with Cleopatra, up he speaks, And asks us if we knew what Brutus said, While nearing death, to Cassius. "No," we said. And Antony began to tell of Brutus: -- How all his life was spent in study, how He starved his body, slept but briefly, cut His hours of sleep by practice; fixed his thought On virtue and on glory; made himself A zealot of one purpose: liberty; A spirit as of a beast that knows one thing: Its food and how to get it; over its spirit No heaven keeps of changing light; no stars Of wandering thought; no moons that charm Still groves by singing waters, and no suns Of large illumination, showing life As multiform and fathomless, filled with wings Of various truth, each true as other truth. This was that Brutus, made an asp by thought And nature, to be used by envious hands And placed to Caesar's breast. So Antony Discoursed upon our walk, and capped it off With Brutus' words when dying. They were these: "O virtue, miserable virtue, bawd and cheat; Thou wert a bare word and I followed thee As if thou hadst been real. But even as evil, Lust, ignorance, thou wert the plaything too Of fortune and of chance." So Antony Consoled himself with Brutus, sighed and lapsed To silence; thinking, as we deemed, of life And what it yet could be, and how 'twould end; And how to join his Cleopatra, what The days would hold amid the toppling walls Of Rome in demolition, now the hand Of Caesar rotted, and no longer stayed The picks and catapults of an idiot world! So, as it seemed, he would excuse himself For Actium and his way in life. For soon He speaks again, of Theophrastus now, Who lived a hundred years, spent all his life In study and in writing, brought to death By labor; dying lay encompassed by Two thousand followers, disciples, preachers Of what he taught; and dying was penitent For glory, even as Brutus was penitent For virtue later. And so Antony Spoke Theophrastus' dying words, and told How Theophrastus by a follower Asked for a last commandment, spoke these words: "There is none. But 'tis folly to cast away Pleasure for glory! And no love is worse Than love of glory. Look upon my life: -- Its toil and hard denial! To what end? Therefore live happy; study, if you must, For fame and happiness. Life's vanity Exceeds its usefulness." So speaking thus Wise Theophrastus died. Now I have said That Brutus ruined Antony. So he did, If Antony were ruined -- that's the question. For Antony hearing Brutus say, "O virtue, Miserable virtue, bawd and cheat," and seeing The eyes of Brutus stare in death, threw over him A scarlet mantle, and took to his heart The dying words of Brutus. It is true That Cicero said Antony as a youth Was odious for drinking-bouts, amours, For bacchanals, luxurious life, and true When as triumvir, after Caesar's death, He kept the house of Pompey, where he lived, Filled up with jugglers, drunkards, flatterers. All this before the death of Brutus, or His love for Cleopatra. But it's true He was great Caesar's colleague. Caesar dead, This Antony is chief ruler of all Rome, And wars in Greece, and Asia. So it's true He was not wholly given to the cup, But knew fatigue and battle, hunger too, Living on roots in Parthia. Yet, you see, With Caesar slaughtered in the capitol, His friend, almost his god; and Brutus gasping "O miserable virtue"; and the feet of men From Syria to Hispania, slipping off The world that broke in pieces, like an island Falling apart beneath a heaving tide -- Whence from its flocculent fragment wretches leap -- You see it was no wonder for this Antony, Made what he was by nature and by life, In such a time and fate of the drifting world, To turn to Cleopatra, and leave war And rulership to languish. Thus it was: Caesar is slaughtered, Antony must avenge The death of Caesar. Brutus is brought to death, And dying scoffs at virtue which took off In Brutus' hand the sovran life of Caesar. And soon our Antony must fight against The recreant hordes of Asia, finding here His Cleopatra for coadjutor.... He's forty-two and ripe. She's twenty-eight, Fruit fresh and blushing, most mature and rich; Her voice an instrument of many strings That yielded laughter, wisdom, folly, song, And tales of many lands, in Arabic, And Hebrew, Syriac and Parthiac. She spoke the language of the troglodytes, The Medes and others. And when Antony Sent for her in Cilicia, she took time, Ignored his orders, leisurely at last Sailed up the Cydnus in a barge whose stern Was gilded, and with purple sails. Returned His dining invitation with her own, And bent his will to hers. He went to her, And found a banquet richer than his largess Could give her. For while feasting, branches sunk Around them, budding lights in squares and circles, And lighted up their heaven, as with stars. She found him broad and gross, but joined her taste To him in this. And then their love began. And while his Fulvia kept his quarrels alive With force of arms in Rome on Octavianus, And while the Parthian threatened Syria, He lets the Queen of Egypt take him off To Alexandria, where he joins with her The Inimitable Livers; and in holiday Plays like a boy and riots, while great Brutus Is rotting in the earth for Virtue's sake; And Theophrastus for three hundred years Has changed from dust to grass, and grass to dust! And Cleopatra's kitchen groans with food. Eight boars are roasted whole -- though only twelve Of these Inimitable Livers, with the Queen And Antony are to eat -- that every dish May be served up just roasted to a turn. And who knows when Marc Antony may sup? Perhaps this hour, perhaps another hour, Perhaps this minute he may call for wine, Or start to talk with Cleopatra; fish -- For fish they did together. On a day They fished together, and his luck was ill, And so he ordered fishermen to dive And put upon his hook fish caught before. And Cleopatra feigned to be deceived, And shouted out his luck. Next day invited The Inimitable Livers down to see him fish, Whereat she had a diver fix his hook With a salted fish from Pontus. Antony Drew up amid their laughter. Then she said: "Sweet Antony, leave us poor sovereigns here, Of Pharos and Canopus, to the rod; Your game is cities, provinces and kingdoms." Were Antony serious, or disposed to mirth? She had some new delight. She diced with him, Drank with him, hunted with him. When he went To exercise in arms, she sat to see. At night she rambled with him in the streets, Dressed like a servant-woman, making mischief At people's doors. And Antony disguised Got scurvy answers, beatings from the folk, Tormented in their houses. So it went Till Actium. She loved him, let him be By day nor night alone, at every turn Was with him and upon him. Well, this life Was neither virtue, glory, fame, nor study, But it was life, and life that did not slay A Caesar for a word like Liberty. And it was life, its essence nor changed nor lost By Actium, where his soul shot forth to her As from a catapult a stone is cast, Seeing her lift her sixty sails and fly. His soul lived in her body as 'twere born A part of her, and whithersoever she went There followed he. And all their life together Was what it was, a rapture, justified By its essential honey of realest blossoms, In spite of anguished shame. When hauled aboard The ship of Cleopatra, he sat down And with his two hands covered up his face! Brutus had penitence at Philippi For virtue which befooled him. Antony Remorse and terror there at Actium Deserting with his queen, for love that made His body not his own, as Brutus' will Was subject to the magic of a word.... For what is Virtue, what is Love? At least We know their dire effects, that both befool, Betray, destroy. The Queen and Antony Had joined the Inimitable Livers, now they joined The Diers Together. They had kept how oft The Festival of Flagons, now to keep The Ritual of Passing Life was theirs. But first they suffered anger with each other While on her ship, till touching Tenarus When they were brought to speak by women friends, At last to eat and sleep together. Yet Poison had fallen on their leaves, which stripped Their greenness to the stalk, as you shall see.... Here to make clear what flight of Antony meant, For cause how base or natural, let me say That Actium's battle had not been a loss To Antony and his honor, if Canidius, Commanding under Antony, had not flown In imitation of his chief; the soldiers Fought desperately in hope that Antony Would come again and lead them. So it was He touched, with Cleopatra, Africa, And sent her into Egypt; and with us, Myself and Aristocrates, walked and brooded In solitary places, as I said. But when he came to Alexandria He finds his Cleopatra dragging her fleet Over the land space which divides the sea Near Egypt from the Red Sea, so to float Her fleet in the Arabian Gulf, and there, Somewhere upon earth's other side, to find A home secure from war and slavery. She failed in this; but Antony leaves the city, And leaves his queen, plays Timon, builds a house Near Pharos on a little mole; lives here Until he hears all princes and all kings Desert him in the realm of Rome; which news Brings gladness to him, for hope put away, And cares slipped off. Then leaving Timoneum, -- For such he named his dwelling there near Pharos -- He goes to Cleopatra, is received, And sets the city feasting once again. The order of Inimitable Livers breaks, And forms the Diers Together in its place. And all who banquet with them, take the oath To die with Antony and Cleopatra, Observing her preoccupation with Drugs poisonous and creatures venomous. And thus their feast of flagons and of love In many courses riotously consumed Awaits the radiate liquor dazzling through Their unimagined terror, like the rays Shot from the bright eyes of the cockatrice, Crackling for poison in the crystal served By fleshless hands! A skeleton steward soon Will pass the liquer to them; they will drink, And leave no message, no commandment either -- As Theophrastus was reluctant to -- Denied disciples; for Inimitable Livers Raise up no followers, create no faith, No cult or sect. Joy has his special wisdom, Which dies with him who learned it, does not fire Mad bosoms like your Virtue. I must note The proffered favors, honors of young Caesar To Cleopatra, if she'd put to death Her Antony; and Antony's jealousy, Aroused by Thyrsus, messenger of Caesar, Whom Cleopatra gave long audiences, And special courtesies; seized, whipped at last By Antony, sent back to Caesar. Yet The queen was faithful. When her birth-day came She kept it suitable to her fallen state, But all the while paying her Antony love, And honor, kept his birth-day with such richness That guests who came in want departed rich.... Wine, weariness, much living, early age Made fall for Antony. October's clouds In man's life, like October, have no sun To lift the mists of doubt, distortion, fear. Faces, events, and wills around us show Malformed, or ugly, changed from what they were. And when his troops desert him in the city To Caesar, Antony cries out, the queen, His Cleopatra, has betrayed him. She In terror seeks her monument, sends word That she is dead. And Antony believes And says delay no longer, stabs himself, Is hauled up dying to the arms of her, Where midst her frantic wailings he expires! Kings and commanders begged of Caesar grace To give this Antony his funeral rites. But Caesar left the body with the queen Who buried it with royal pomp and splendor. Thus died at fifty-six Marc Antony, And Cleopatra followed him with poison, The asp or hollow bodkin, having lived To thirty-nine, and reigned with Antony As partner in the empire fourteen years.... Who in a time to come will gorge and drink, Filch treasure that it may be spent for wine, Kill as Marc Antony did, war as he did, Because Marc Antony did so, taking him As warrant and exemplar? Why, never a soul! These things are done by souls who do not think, But act from feeling. But those mad for stars Glimpsed in wild waters or through mountain mists Seen ruddy and portentous will take Brutus As inspiration, since for Virtue's sake And for the good of Rome he killed his friend; And in the act made Liberty as far From things of self, as murder is apart From friendship and its ways. Yes, Brutus lives To fire the mad-men of the centuries As Caesar lives to guide new tyrants. Yet Tyrannicide but snips the serpent's head. The body of a rotten state still writhes And wriggles though the head is gone, or worse, Festers and stinks against the setting sun.... Marc Antony lived happier than Brutus And left the old world happier for his life Than Brutus left it. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MARK ANTHONY IN HEAVEN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS ANTONY AND [OR, TO] CLEOPATRA by WILLIAM HAINES LYTLE THE AUTHOR'S MOCK SONG TO MARK ANTONY by JOHN CLEVELAND THE FESTAL HOUR by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE LAST BANQUET OF ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA; AN ANECDOTE FROM PLUTARCH by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON ANTONY IN EGYPT by ARTHUR PETERSON VALENTINE by JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ALEXANDER THROCKMORTON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |
|