Sonnets by the Rev. Charles Strong Second Edition |
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Sonnets by the Rev. Charles Strong | ||
XXVI.
Is this the spot where Rome's eternal foe
Into his snares the mighty legions drew,
Whence from the carnage, spiritless and few,
A remnant scarcely reached her gates of woe?
Into his snares the mighty legions drew,
Whence from the carnage, spiritless and few,
A remnant scarcely reached her gates of woe?
Is this the stream, thus gliding soft and slow,
That, from the gushing wounds of thousands, grew
So fierce a flood, that waves of crimson hue
Rushed on the bosom of the lake below?
That, from the gushing wounds of thousands, grew
So fierce a flood, that waves of crimson hue
Rushed on the bosom of the lake below?
The Mountains that gave back the battle-cry,
Are silent now, perchance, yon hillocks green
Mark where the bones of those old warriors lie.
Are silent now, perchance, yon hillocks green
Mark where the bones of those old warriors lie.
Heaven never gladdened a more peaceful scene;
Never left softer breeze a fairer sky
To sport upon thy waters, Thrasymene!
Never left softer breeze a fairer sky
To sport upon thy waters, Thrasymene!
Sonnets by the Rev. Charles Strong | ||