The Path of Luck
The burnished desk of the leader groaned
under the slap of his sturdy sandal:
he brandished it over the map of Europe,
as if he signed it, large, from the left.
The oil-lamp flickered, the officers frowned
and grinned and raised their cups of spiced wine:
“Don’t forge your luck while it’s hot and supple —
but fan your fate when you will it so!”
The earth would unroll like a scarlet carpet,
lavish her treasures before his feet:
the gold and the purple, sandalwood, snakeskin,
the pearl and the laurel, the wine from volcanoes.
His sandals mounting the snow-white steps,
he saw and saw not the pool of blood.
Christina Egan © 2008
Altae moenia Romae
Rome rose, looked round, and conquered all,
on loot and lies loomed square and tall,
and slowly crumbled towards its fall.
Time’s march defies the highest wall.
Christina Egan © 2008
The first poem was written on the Ides of March and the second soon after. They reveal the dark side of Rome, the shadow of the imperial propaganda that the Empire had brought universal peace. Caesar is still celebrated as the greatest statesman ever; but he got to the top, and lifted Rome to the top, at a very great human cost.
For praise of ancient Rome, go to the narrative poem The City Lit Up about Roman London and the sonnets at The Hallowed City about the Eternal City itself.
The poem above follows the structure of an English sonnet, with three times four lines and then two in the end, with a conclusion or twist.
Illustrations: Roman mosaic, Bardo Museum, Tunis. Photograph: Christina Egan © 2014. — Milestone, Campidoglio, Rome. Photograph by Lalupa. — Roman city wall of London. Photograph by Mariordo (Mario Roberto Durán Ortiz) (Own work) via Wikimedia Commons.
Christina Egan 
