Julia Alpinula With The Captive of Stamboul and Other Poems. By J. H. Wiffen |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. | XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
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 | Julia Alpinula |  |
XIII.
It came at last, a fearful time,Dark with despair, and mad with crime;
A time of terror and of fate
To free Helvetia's mountain state.
When grief no private pang could feel,
In sorrow for the public weal;
When the bright past appeared a blot
Which apathy remembered not;
Of chance, and tears became the brave;
And all beyond—a deluge dark,
But O, without Deucalion's ark!
With many an omen, passing faith,
Rushed in the flood of war and death;
Bathed in the sweat of agony
Were statues seen, and voices ran
Shrill through the streets, a hollow cry.
Unlike the cry of mortal man.
Victory her brandished arms let fall.
At noon in the pale Capitol.
From Juno's shrine rose angry forms,
Striding the winds, arrayed in storms,
And vanished with a sound more loud
Than thunder in a groaning cloud.
Night's planet wore the dark eclipse,
Earth shook its towns; the seas their ships;
Trees fell from hills, whilst on the wood
A summer calmness seemed to brood.
Floods swept the streets by day; at night
Came startling visions of affright
To priests in their divining cell,
Which they in terror dared not tell.
As silent thro' the squares they passed,
Their eyes upon the pavement cast,
The ghastly anguish of their look.
All faces gathered paleness: Rome
Seemed compassed by the day of doom,
Since on the foreheads of the just
Sate mortal sadness and mistrust.
The oracles no more dissembled,
The Priestess on her tripod trembled.
Fatal night, and angry morning,
She chanted forth her wild forewarning,
Evil dreamt and treason dawning;
Beckoning shapes that led to ruin,
Armed hand the head pursuing,
Deeds, of which there's no undoing,
And the red waves of Phlegethon
In fire for ever rolling on.
At length when every eye was bent
To vision forth the dark event,
The awful secret of the fates
Burst from their adamantine gates,
The bloody dagger struck too well,
And Otho rose as Galba fell.
“Under the government of Nero, the discontent of the people, oppressed by taxes, their contempt, their hatred of the worthless emperor, excited a mighty insurrection in the Helvetian provinces. Julius Vindex, of an illustrious Gallic origin, prefect of the province of the Lingones, revolted against the crowned tyrant, and leagued with Galba, the governor of Hispania, esteemed for his probity and attachment to a strict discipline. The German legions imitated his example. The tragical death of Nero, last of the Cæsarian princes, laid open the empire as a prey to the boldest or most fortunate adventurer. Galba was put in possession of it by his soldiery, but them his economy and severity of discipline displeased. They who dispose of crowns, desire a reward proportioned to the splendid gift. Galba had adopted Piso for his successor: the jealous Otho rose against him, and Galba was assassinated, but the usurper did not long enjoy his elevation to the imperial purple. Vitellius, seeing what might be done with the assistance of an army devoted to its chief, caused himself to be proclaimed emperor by the German legions which he commanded. He set out with them to receive the homage of Rome, Aulus or Alienus Ceeina, one of his generals, preceding him with 30,000 men, and traversing Helvetia. The Helvetians were ignorant of the death of Galba, whose cause they had embraced, and refused to recognise Vitellius. Their chief magistrate, Julius Alpinus, a faithful friend of Galba, confirmed them in their resolution, and engaged them to take up arms.” — Mallet.—Histoire des Suisses, 4 tom. 8vo. Geneve, 1803.
But long before this deed of fear
Could reach the far Helvetian's ear,
The sullen legions of the West,
Had reared the banner and the crest,
Before a Camp-elected King.
To the first ranks Cecina sprung,
Savage, though brave; though ruthless, young;
Found false by Galba, he had long
His own abasement deemed a wrong,
And now beheld in civil change
A fit arena for revenge.
For this, that murdered Prince's fall
His subtle mind concealed from all;
Thus he made ignorance their guilt,
And vengeance soothed by anguish spilt.
The strength of legions at command,
And Battle's clarion in his hand,
His foot on Gaul—his lowering eye
Turned towards sunbright Italy,
The snows on Jura's soaring crest,
His terrible regards arrest,
His busy Demon whispered there
A glorious victim for his snare;
He heard, and forward as he flew,
The loud, rebelling trumpet blew.
Its barbarous clangor seemed to call
Bellona from her Thracian hall,
And rouse Helvetia to the fears—
The pangs of long forgotten years.
From all her dreams of joy awoke,
To trace through anguish and alarm,
A father's sword—a patriot's arm.
| Julia Alpinula | |