The Continence Of Scipio
After a painting of the same name.
The Roman general Scipio is on the altar raised;
In golden robes, on simple throne, he dominates the dais,
His court is made outdoors, a marble slab the man exalts;
Did Scipio Africanus drag the rock from local vaults?
Did th’ conquered Carthiginians ‘ready have a throne outside
For sundry conqu’ring Roman gents to sit, obscene, astride?
With bloodless hand the vanquisher makes offers to his guest
(We know he’s now refused the virgin’s ransom from context —
The history tells us Scipio a virgin could have had;
A girl among his prisoners in whitened cloth all clad,
Yet he instead returned her to her courtly bowing prince
Refusing he the ransom; gave it back as wedding gifts.)
Astonished are the people at th‘ barbarian’s new restraint;
The Carthaginians nod and murmur, “Hanno, this guy ain’t.”
All Scipio, womanizer, aristocrat on treasure placed,
Need do was not assault a pris’ner in his clutch embraced,
And turn down ransom from her family when they ask her back,
To make himself the voice of reason after the attack.
The family bows and blushes at the mercy of the king,
The Romans beam through injuries, heads wrapped, their arms in slings,
The Carthaginians wonder at the enemy’s reprieve,
A lady of the court with laurels decorates the thief,
Who stole with combat part of Spain where lived their lives concerns,
Adoring this peacemaker while nearby New Carthage burns.
Originally published for Little Epic — subscribe and get a free copy of Dudesong!
