 | Areytos or songs and ballads of the South |  |
XIV.
“Thou see'st!” resumed the phantom of the sire,
“That terrible shape is War! And such the doom
Of Italy or Carthage! Do thou choose
Whether such fortune fall upon thy home,
Where all that is most dear to thy desire
Harbors, or on the country of thy foes!
Such is the fate of Carthage or of Rome!
They are two rival destinies, that strive
In conflict, and one only may survive!
Look not again behind thee, but before!
There speed that terror! Let the ravaging form
Spread forth on every side, in fire and storm!
Be pitiless, that ye may better prove
Tender and merciful where most you love.
There rend the city; bid the temple flame;
Man yield to hate, and woman sink in shame;
While Rome succumbs to Carthage and to thee,
Even as thy will and courage shall decree!
“That terrible shape is War! And such the doom
Of Italy or Carthage! Do thou choose
Whether such fortune fall upon thy home,
Where all that is most dear to thy desire
Harbors, or on the country of thy foes!
Such is the fate of Carthage or of Rome!
They are two rival destinies, that strive
In conflict, and one only may survive!
Look not again behind thee, but before!
There speed that terror! Let the ravaging form
Spread forth on every side, in fire and storm!
Be pitiless, that ye may better prove
Tender and merciful where most you love.
There rend the city; bid the temple flame;
Man yield to hate, and woman sink in shame;
While Rome succumbs to Carthage and to thee,
Even as thy will and courage shall decree!
But look not back—and dream no more! The hour
That finds thee thus unfaithful to thy fame,
Finds thee and Carthage lost to pride and power
Fate on her roof, disgrace upon thy name.
That finds thee thus unfaithful to thy fame,
Finds thee and Carthage lost to pride and power
Fate on her roof, disgrace upon thy name.
On, though alps tower on alps; though perils crowd
Thy legions, through the tempest and the cloud;
Though thousands perish in the pitiless strife!—
Even in their fate shall Carthage gain new life!
Heed not the rocks that ever round thee rise,
These bring thee hourly nearer to thy prize;
They are thy steps to triumph—steeps that bring
The conqueror to new uses of his wing;
Thence, down upon the valleys shalt thou spring,
With tenfold power to crush; thence shalt thou grow
Resistless, in the struggle with thy foe;
And when thy soul is saddest, and thy form
Grows weariest, let one thought thy courage warm—
Rome is beyond! That empire of thy Hate,
Thy foe and victim She, and Thou, her Fate!”
Thy legions, through the tempest and the cloud;
Though thousands perish in the pitiless strife!—
Even in their fate shall Carthage gain new life!
Heed not the rocks that ever round thee rise,
These bring thee hourly nearer to thy prize;
246
The conqueror to new uses of his wing;
Thence, down upon the valleys shalt thou spring,
With tenfold power to crush; thence shalt thou grow
Resistless, in the struggle with thy foe;
And when thy soul is saddest, and thy form
Grows weariest, let one thought thy courage warm—
Rome is beyond! That empire of thy Hate,
Thy foe and victim She, and Thou, her Fate!”
| Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | |