And I too have stood in the grove, listening:
More an antique Roman than image of a man.
Straining, hearing only the wind: driving dust,
to Hecuba.
I, as hush as death: wait, wane, atrophy
But as is I? often see against some storm
silence struck in faculty and motion I do nothing.
The rack indeed stands still.
Can you stand the post tonight?
I, I'm so terribly cold.
And of late seem to have lost my mirth
Ney, Lets go together;
I alone should not stand guard.
Nor in vestiges mock'd and be touted: king
If I waiver, if my sight fails then
indirections alone find directions out.
I cannot live to hear the news form England
My antique passions rebellious to my duty fall repugnant
When faced with the action I must pursue
Care I if I am damned in the process?
I don't. Were I wrong, and this right
A thousand times damned I would rather be
Than uphold this right,
such a malignant thing as I
to play Pyrrhus.
And drive on Priam
Though my quarry cry havoc
And I draw breath in pain
Ill have an answer in action
If by chance, tonight it will walk again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem