The Funeral Parade of the Celebrated Germanicus

(This poem has nothing to do with any news happened to happen in China.)

"Arsit angustas vagus inter undas"--Seneca.

"Of his lot," They say, "should the posterity talk,"
"Eternal sure, alas, Germanicus' fame abide!"
Weak in cunnings, nor bliss wretched prince work'd,
Curia summoned mourning deem Lachesis rather kind.

"Quirites," cometh a painter, renown'd declaimer in youth
Gaul's town his dwelling, hospitable Cisalpine province,
"Tis honest memory, happy still is he beneth,"
"For the miserable his defence, to the chatters of the ambitious,
his silence."

Much novel his tongue, fourished in country fertile
With valor, fluency and novelty, "Behold, not fictional,"
"Ye all by Appian way, the Butterfly black celestial!"
"Lofty beyond urn, wandering the heads poor his cordial."

Just as when drowneth one in hiemy Adriatic, 
Whose vessel brother spoil'd for hateful hatred civic,
As from heaven's sight, the crime to be cover'd
Sluggish gather'd cloud in dense, not without panic:
And so for people fanatic.

Dregs of Falernum, fed on jests while flatterous,
An old historian, sinking in bottom of the Republic pertinacious,
Whose accents have grown odd for the wicked and virtuous,
Cast'd out from unstable honors, saith but "tedious".

"If died a meek prince," They say, "the despot too will,"
"long live," Sure, "the people", too their meek will.
Heap thy tyrannicidal tiny flower, let them thrown numerous;
On his tomb they'll write "ἔσχατος τοῦ ἰδίου γένους".