The Rolliad, in Two Parts / Probationary Odes for the Laureatship & Political Eclogues

The Rolliad, in Two Parts / Probationary Odes for the Laureatship & Political Eclogues

George Ellis

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The Rolliad, in Two Parts / Probationary Odes for the Laureatship & Political Eclogues by George Ellis

Chapter 1 No.1

O! green-rob'd Goddess of the hallow'd shade,

Daughter of Jove, to whom of yore

Thee, lovely maid, Latona bore,

Chaste virgin, Empress of the silent glade!

Where shall I woo thee?-Ere the dawn,

While still the dewy tissue of the lawn

Quivering spangles to the eye,

And fills the soul with Nature's harmony!

Or 'mid that murky grove's monastic night,

The tangling net-work of the woodbine's gloom,

Each zephyr pregnant with perfume--

Or near that delving dale, or mossy mountain's height,

When Neptune struck the scientific ground.

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I had just survived a private jet crash, my body a map of violet bruises and my lungs still burning from the smoke. I woke up in a sterile hospital room, gasping for my husband's name, only to realize I was completely alone. While I was bleeding in a ditch, my husband, Adam, was on the news smiling at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. When I tracked him down at the hospital's VIP wing, I didn't find a grieving husband. I found him tenderly cradling his ex-girlfriend, Casie, in his arms, his face lit with a protective warmth he had never shown me as he carried her into the maternity ward. The betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. Adam admitted the affair started on our third anniversary-the night he claimed he was stuck in London for a merger. Back at the manor, his mother had already filled our planned nursery with pink boutique bags for Casie's "little princess." When I demanded a divorce, Adam didn't flinch. He sneered that I was "gutter trash" from a foster home and that I'd be begging on the streets within a week. To trap me, he froze my bank accounts, cancelled my flight, and even called the police to report me for "theft" of company property. I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was a charity case he had plucked from obscurity to manage his life. To the Hortons, I was just a servant who happened to sleep in the master bedroom, a "resilient" woman meant to endure his abuse in silence while the whole world laughed at the joke that was my marriage. Adam thought stripping me of his money would make me crawl back to him. He was wrong. I walked into his executive suite during his biggest deal of the year and poured a mug of sludge over his original ten-million-dollar contracts. Then, right in front of his board and his mistress, I stripped off every designer thread he had ever paid for until I was standing in nothing but my own silk camisole. "You can keep the clothes, Adam. They're as hollow as you are." I grabbed my passport, turned my back on his billions, and walked out of that glass tower barefoot, bleeding, and finally free.

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