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Shall I wreck my life with roses, hurt my flesh with flames and rods?
All is vain!—for I have conquered both the mortals and the Gods.
In the garden of Priapus, in the land of lost desire,
I have made myself a monster and my soul a snake of fire.
Ho! it stings me! Ho! it poisons! all the flesh is branded through,
Branded with the steel of Vulcan, with the lava's deadly dew.
All the kisses of the satyr, all the punishments of Pan,
All Eros hath given of arrows to the eyes of maid and man,
At their lips and lives I suffered—I have borne me as a queen:
Hear the roar of after aeons that acclaim me Messaline!
Woe is me! the waves of ages—icier, icier as they roll—
May not cover up my stature, may not quench this devil-soul.

Here's the palace. I must enter sly and secret as a thief.
I would rather blazon, blazon, this my night beyond belief.
I, a worn Suburrian Venus reeking with a fouler foam,
Sucked within me in the darkness the virility of Rome.
Now's the light, the light accurséd: I must get me to the feast,
Stupefy this Panic spirit, throw a posset to the beast.
—Hail, ye Gods! ye Gods infernal! here salutes ye Hercules!
I am come to bring my spirit free of ye and forth of these.
I am Orpheus! I will charm ye, bring Eurydice to light——
Ah, my lords! Alas the omen! who shall turn me all to right?
Who of all our proud Olympus shall avail me or befriend?
Ah, my lords! but I am weary.
See ye any one the end?

Nay! we saw her grope and stumble for the secret sidelong door,
Lift the latch with trembling fingers, pass within and be no more.
There we stood and worshipped sadly (for the cry had touched us home),
Worshipped till the gray was azure as the sun rekindled Rome.