A Roman Lawyer in Jerusalem First Century

Excerpt

Marcus, abiding in Jerusalem,
Greeting to Caius, his best friend in Rome!
Salve! these presents will he borne to you
By Lucius, who is wearied with this place,
Sated with travel, looks upon the East
As simply hateful—­blazing, barren, bleak,
And longs again to find himself in Rome,
After the tumult of its streets, its trains
Of slaves and clients, and its villas cool
With marble porticoes beside the sea,
And friends and banquets—­more than all, its games—­
This life seems blank and flat.  He pants to stand
In its vast circus all alive with heads
And quivering arms and floating robes—­the air
Thrilled by the roaring fremitus of men—­
The sunlit awning heaving overhead,
Swollen and strained against its corded veins
And flapping out its hem with loud report—­
The wild beasts roaring from the pit below—­
The wilder crowd responding from above
With one long yell that sends the startled blood
With thrill and sudden flush into the cheeks—­
A hundred trumpets screaming—­the dull thump
Of horses galloping across the sand—­
The clang of sabbards, the sharp clash of steel—­
Live swords, that whirl a circle of grey fire—­
Brass helmets flashing ’neath their streaming hair—­
A universal tumult—­then a hush
Worse than the tumult—­all eyes staining down
To the arena’s pit—­all lips set close—­
All muscles strained—­and then that sudden yell,
Habet!—­That’s Rome, says Lucius! so it is! 
That is, ’tis his Rome—­’tis not yours and mine.