The evening camp fire was lit, and Tamora, the queen of the robbers, with a couple of robber cooks, was preparing supper for the whole band when they returned from their daily avocations.
They seemed to be a jolly set, and with joke, laughter and song, these chivalric sons of sunny Italy were relating their various exploits, and laughing at the trepidation and futile resistance of their former victims.
Just before the band sat around on the ferny, pine clad rocks for supper, Roderick addressed William, and asked him if he had anything to say why he should not be robbed and murdered.
William said he was perfectly indifferent; for, being only a writer of plays and an actor, working for the amusement of mankind, he led a kind of dog's life anyhow, and didn't give a damn what they did with him.
The Robber Chief gave a yell and a roar that could be heard for three miles among the columned pines and oaks of the Apennines, and yelled, "Bully for you! Shake!"
Roderick then turned to me and said, "Who are you?"
I replied at once, "I am a fool and a poet."
He grasped my hand intensely and yelled, "I'm another." That sealed our friendship.
Then these gay and festive robbers invited us to partake of the best in the mountain wilds, with the request that after the evening feast was over we should give samples of our trade.
With the blazing light of a mountain fire, hemmed in by inaccessible rocks and gulches, from a tablerock overhanging a roaring, dashing stream, five thousand feet below, William stood and was requested to give a sample of his dramatic poetry for the edification of the beautiful cut-throat audience! And this, as I well remember, was his encomium in Latin to the "Gentlemen" and "Queen" of independent, gold-getting, robbing, murdering, fantastic Italian "society."
_When first I beheld your noble band Pounce from rock and lairs vernal, My soul and hair were lifted With admiration and amazement. Free as air, ye sons of immortal sires, Hold these crags, defiant still, As eagles in their onward sweep-- Citizens of destiny, Entertainment awaits your advent, Even beneath yon columned capitol! The emperors, pampered in power Were subject to some human laws, But you, great, wonderful chief, Roderick, the Terrible, and fierce Soar superior over all, bloody villain, Force with gold and silver alone-- Dictating thy generous onslaughts! Cæsar, Pompey and Scipio Could not compete with thy valor; Only Nero, paragon of infamy, Could match the renown of Roderick, Thy fame, great chief, boundless as the globe! Italy, Spain, France and England Pay constant tribute to thy purse, Travelers and pilgrims, seeking glory By kissing the pope's big toe Drop their golden coin and jewels Into thy pockets capacious, Hear me, ye sprites of Apennine, And the ghouls of murdered travelers Let the circumambient air Ring with universal cheers For Roderick, the glory of Robbers, And the terror of mankind._ (Whirlwind of cheers.)