"Before thy presence, father, I appear, With conscious shame and reverential fear. Ah! had I died, ere to these walk I fled, False to my country, and my nuptial bed; My brothers, friends, and daughter left behind, False to them all, to Paris only kind! For this I mourn, till grief or dire disease Shall waste the form whose fault it was to please! The king of kings, Atrides, you survey, Great in the war, and great in arts of sway: My brother once, before my days of shame! And oh! that still he bore a brother's name!"
A former Classics major, now lawyer by day, history buff and blogger by night. Early in this century I unexpectedly developed a passion for American history. More recently, I've returned to the Roman empire. Other interests include music (listening, not performing!), tube amps, photography and lousy golf.