 | The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield |  |
127
And utterest thy revenge in mockeries!
Yon sun, 'mid brazen heavens and sulphur clouds,
Now hastening to the horizon, ne'er shall rise
On the Campanian cities; palace and shrine,
The battlemented fortress, festive dome,
Palæstra, amphitheatre, and hall
Of judgment wrested to the despot's ends—
The household hearth—the stores of merchandise—
And many a lofty impious heart shall lie,
Shrouded and sepulchred in seas of flame,
Ere morrow breaks, beneath the burning deep.
And ages shall depart—and meteors glare.
And constellations vanish in the void
Of the pale azure—and a thousand times
Earth's generations perish—ere the beams
Of morn shall light the cities of the Dead!
Quaff, feast, sing, laugh, exult and mock! ye eat
The Lectisternian banquet —to the dead
Pour out libations—gorge the appetite—
Madden the brain—let Phrygian flutes inspire
Your latest joys—be merry with the storm
That howls e'en now along the Fire-Mount's depths!
For me, the martyr trusts his martyred God!
And not for all your grandeur—nor for earth's,
Would he partake your banquet and your doom!”
| The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield | |