 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
127
FALL OF LISBON.
Listen! is that startling sound
Some distant thunder-peal?
Or rolls upon the solid ground
The heavy chariot-wheel?
Yon pale wretch flying from his home—
The piercing shriek of woe—
The loud crash of the falling dome,
And temple, answer—no!
Some distant thunder-peal?
Or rolls upon the solid ground
The heavy chariot-wheel?
Yon pale wretch flying from his home—
The piercing shriek of woe—
The loud crash of the falling dome,
And temple, answer—no!
The soldier—who had borne a part,
When war his banner spread,
With stalwart arm and fearless heart—
Now, terror-stricken, fled:
The dying aid besought in vain—
The vaulted sky grew dark,
And, on the madly-heaving main,
Unguided rode the bark.
When war his banner spread,
With stalwart arm and fearless heart—
Now, terror-stricken, fled:
The dying aid besought in vain—
The vaulted sky grew dark,
And, on the madly-heaving main,
Unguided rode the bark.
The castle proud, and humble shed
Alike were overthrown;
With cottage-born and palace-bred
The trembling earth was strown.
Some cowered by dwellings prostrate laid,
Blank monuments of fear;
Others looked wildly round for aid—
No aid, alas! was near.
Alike were overthrown;
With cottage-born and palace-bred
The trembling earth was strown.
Some cowered by dwellings prostrate laid,
Blank monuments of fear;
Others looked wildly round for aid—
No aid, alas! was near.
128
“The sea is coming—we are lost!”
Despairing voices cried,
While, landward, like a charging host,
Swept on the chainless tide.
Above Art's gorgeous wreck did close
The billow darkly then;
And wildly from the flood arose
The cries of drowning men.
Despairing voices cried,
While, landward, like a charging host,
Swept on the chainless tide.
Above Art's gorgeous wreck did close
The billow darkly then;
And wildly from the flood arose
The cries of drowning men.
An awful scene, unlike the first,
With mournful twilight came:
From Lisbon's tortured heart outburst
Black smoke and hissing flame.
Then temple, arch, and glittering spire,
By wave and earthquake spared,
Wrapped in red banner-folds of fire,
The common ruin shared.
With mournful twilight came:
From Lisbon's tortured heart outburst
Black smoke and hissing flame.
Then temple, arch, and glittering spire,
By wave and earthquake spared,
Wrapped in red banner-folds of fire,
The common ruin shared.
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |