The Monk's Tale [Julius Caesar]

By wisdom, manhood, and high work in war,
From humble bed to royal majesty
Julius uprose, the mighty conqueror,
That won the Occident by land and sea
With force, or treaties fashioned skillfully,
And thus to Rome made it all tributary;
And later, emperor of Rome was he
Till fortune turned at length his adversary.

O mighty Caesar, that in Thessaly
Against thy father-in-law, great Pompey, drew,
Who brought from all the east the chivalry
As far as where the day dawns in the blue--
Thou through thy knighthood took them all, or slew,
Save for a remnant that with Pompey fled,
Thus didst thou awe the Orient, and subdue;
Thank Fortune, that so prospered thee and sped!

But now a little while will I lament
Pompey, of Rome the noble governor
That forth in flight after this battle went;
One of his men, a false conspirator,
Smote off his head, and this to Julius bore,
Hoping to win great favor as his friend.
Pompey, alas! the Orient's conqueror,
That Fortune brought thee thus to such an end!

To Rome again went marching Julius,
Laurelled, and riding in a triumph high,
But on a time one Brutus Cassius,
That saw his high estate with jealous eye,
Formed a conspiracy full dark and sly
Against this Julius, in a subtle way,
And fixed the very place where he should die,
Struck down by daggers, as I soon shall say.

Unto the capitol this Julius passed
One day, for there by habit would he go,
And in the capitol they seized him fast,
This Brutus false, and many another foe,
And with their daggers many a grievous blow
They dealt him, and they left him where he fell,
And only once or twice he groaned for woe,
If it is not a lie the legends tell.

So manly was the heart this Julius bore,
And so he loved a noble modesty,
That, though his deadly gashes hurt him sore,
Across his thighs his mantle quietly
He cast, that none his nakedness should see;
For in his dying swoon as he reclined,
And knew his death a certain thing to be,
The thought of modesty was in his mind.
Lucan, to thee this story I commend,
And to Valerian and Suetonius,
That set it down, its substance and its end:
How Fortune with these conquerors did thus
Begin as friend, and then was traitorous.
Let none put trust upon her favor long,
But watch her always. For so teacheth us
The fate of all these conquerors so strong!

 ~ from The Monk's Tale;
    The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer