Dis Manibus
Gustave Flaubert, whose honoured rôle
Was to be scribe to Nero’s soul,
And make French flesh to creep and crow
O’er Carthaginian Salammbô,
Lies here—in body, as in the brain,
Like Morgue—corpse tumid from the Seine.
What shall be writ above his grave?
Vitellius’, Nero’s dying stave?
“Fui Imperator,” shall it flow,
Or “Qualis artifex pereo.
