CATILINA.
Du skal høre. –
Jeg stred i spidsen, med fortvivlet sind,
og søgte døden under sværdets egg.
Til højre og til venstre segned alle;
Statilius faldt, – Gabinius, Manlius;
min Curius dræbtes da mit bryst han dækked;
da alle faldt for blanke Romer-sværd, –
for hine sværd, som vraged mig alene.
Ja, Romas våben vraged Catilina.
Med brustent værge stod jeg, halvt bedøvet,
og sansed intet medens kampens bølger
mig overskylled. Samling vandt jeg først
da alt blev stilt omkring, og jeg så op,
og øjned slaget som et hav – langt bag mig!
Hvorlænge stod jeg der? Det véd jeg kun, –
jeg stod alene mellem mine døde.
Men der var liv i disse brustne øjne;
mundkrogene fortrak sig til et smil;
og smil og øjne retted de mod mig,
der stod alene oprejst mellem ligene, –
mod mig, der havde stridt for dem og Roma, –
mod mig, der stod igen foragtet, vraget
af Romas sværd. – Da døde Catilina.
CATILINE.
Ah, you shall hear.--
I led the battle with despairing heart,
And sought my death beneath the play of swords.
To right and left I saw my comrades fall;
Statilius first,--then one by one the rest;
My Curius fell trying to shield my breast;
All perished there beneath Rome’s flaming sword,--
The sword that me alone passed by untouched.
Yes, Catiline was spared by the sword of Rome.
Half-stunned I stood there with my broken shield,
Aware of nothing as the waves of battle
Swept o’er me. I recovered first my senses
When all grew still again, and I looked up
And saw the struggle seething--far behind me!
How long I stood there? Only this I know,--
I stood alone among my fallen comrades.
But there was life within those misty eyes;
The corners of their mouths betrayed a smile;
And they addressed their smile and gaze to me,
Who stood alone erect among the dead,--
Who had for ages fought for them and Rome,--
Who stood there lonely and disgraced, untouched
By Roman sword. Then perished Catiline.
