Lament of a New Androcles
Jump highly, chap and look at him, the fool
Spread with welterweight on slumped back
Which, some minutes ago, wore strength or
Confidence of one who bears for years a crown
And draws many a viewer’s unprecedented shout;
Yet now, broken or breathless and with his crown
Sniped by a right-cross, what but a scene of loss.
Acclaim the noise or cheer, true champ
Just bow and raise your hands to stop all this
Applause; for isn’t this what you’ve asked for:
The end of dieting, of endless running-skipping
From dawn, while hitting air with meditative hand.
Be sport to raise your hands. You can be sure
Only the first of acts, they say, is little hard
To get sort over with; for, anyhow, with the flip
Of a coin or the ring of a bell, it could as well
Have been your stake scattered on these sands.
Sure, sure enough, I can take it; so here I bring
This head or hold these hands, like brave Androcles
Catching the
Roman Empire’s irredeemable fall.
Hail unto me who can unmake a champ
Or put a fatal stop into the course of
Rome.
Oh these are not tears, but sweats of trickling joy
Yet these are tears, alright, for my
Rome’s funeral.
Philippine Collegian
Nov 3, 1965