17 AUGUST 1956, Page 20

TWO POEMS A Roman Grave TWO POEMS A Roman Grave

When a commanding chariot carved Its tracks in dust, and soldiers yawned Beneath a portico, and starved For want of fighting, this unknown Centurion led a victory That gave his features and his name to stone.

Then he died. Nineteen centuries Brawled over his sarcophagus, Leaving their dirt; and summer trees Made shadows where the street had been. While worlds were conquered, kingdoms fell, His stone lay silent in the grass, unseen.

They found his monument, the face He had made for a flattery; They found how little was the place He held—and so he was assessed.

And yet for him that hill he took Was Hannibal's and Cmsar's best.

K. CAVANDEI