TAMORA: A Poem, Inspired by Shakespeare's "Titus Andronicus"

DJM

October 2010

But look upon me in my current state!

A Roman whore, who since was Queen of Goths;

And thou, who holdst tradition as thy god,

Whose honor stolen is from those enslaved

Who hast no caring for thy offspring dear

Thou hadst no reverence for my desperate plea

And slew my son as I in tears looked on.

I pray the gods that one day thou shalt know

That self-same agony, to cry in vain

And on that day Queen Tamora will arise

And then my foes will know my burning wrath:

I'll find a day to massacre them all.

First let me turn my hate upon thy name

And poison thy good lord to hate thy sight

For like a spectacle thou brought me hence

And didst abuse me in thy master's eyes,

So even he to whom thou gave me o'er

Shall I seduce and with a black device

Shall make his love turn cold to thee and thine;

If Justice live on earth I cannot fail.

Now to the daughter do I sweep my gaze.

Wilt call me strumpet, girl, and mock my love?

Thy chastity shall know abuse far more

Than is the sin thou chargest me withal.

I have, in spite of all thy father did,

These two remaining sons, and unto them

Shalt thou be sacrifice. Thus I devise

To feed and strengthen these, my flesh and blood,

With spawn that from my enemy is sprung.

I cannot pity thee, thou weakling wretch,

That all too lately threatened to reveal

The secret that I keep; as I am strong

I will not pardon those who wrong me so:

Thy begging rather scorned than pitied is.

Now these three men, who played a brutal part

In all the troubles I felt heretofore

Fall prey to me: the two to my own will;

The third is by a happy circumstance '"

Arising from the works that I perform '"

Brought underneath dominion of my pow'r

And unto ruin I deliver all.

So thou, my foe, if thou hast seen my might,

If tasted of my wrath, if known my sting,

If harmed thyself in desperate fear of me,

If knelt to those who act as I see fit,

If begged in vain as once thou madest me,

Then where, I ask thee, is thy honor now?

And whither is thy glory? Whither strength?

It goeth hard for him that crosseth me!

Know, ere my life is out I'll see the killed.

Not Tamora, I, no more:

I am Revenge.