 | Metrical essays |  |
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AGRIGENTUM.
“This city was besieged by Hannibal, A. M. 3593. The besieged were so pressed by
famine, that all hopes of relief seeming desperate, they resolved to abandon the city.
The reader will naturally imagine to himself the grief with which these miserable
people must be seized, on their being forced to leave their houses, rich possessions,
and their country. But the most grievous circumstance was the necessity they were
under of leaving the sick and aged, who were unable either to fly, or to make the least
resistance.”
Rollin.
I
The clash of war ran loud;The sword of slaughter gleam'd;
But shriller from the starving crowd
The voice of anguish scream'd:
Many arose in haste to fly—
Then dropp'd upon the roads—to die!
II
Death stalked the streets each day,And from his armed hand
Dealt the deep blow of agony,
Shriek'd—horror to the land!—
As in a frightful dream men stept—
Mothers look'd on their babes—and wept:
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III
And there sat one yet young,An old starv'd man her care;
Nor painter's hand, nor poet's tongue,
Ere pictur'd maid as fair:—
Each feature's grace—her curls' dark braid—
Seem'd by Love's self,—love's genius made.
IV
Beauteous she sat—while heBade her in flight to seek
Her safety, and the enemy
Not half the woe could wreak:
The thought would sooth his direst hour,
To know his child had 'scaped their power.
V
Then she would kiss his brow;And to his calls to fly
Said, were the foe upon them now,
There were full time to die;
She would not leave his snow-white head
For foeman's rabble foot to tread.
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VI
Next her young lover came:The city walls were thrown;
And to escape from death—from shame—
One moment was their own:
That lost, then passed their only chance;
Each street would gleam with sword and lance.
VII
Think of their brutal hand,A maiden thou—and fair—
Oh! haste thee—fly this ruin'd land,
For love and life elsewhere!
Her father gazed upon her face:—
She wept—but did not quit her place.
VIII
Father, I have a vow!—Life seem'd almost to flee—
Go,—go dear youth—oh, leave me now—
I may not follow thee,
The Gods be with thee—plead no more—
Leave me—and seek some happier shore.
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IX
He's gone—she's left alone—Alone among the dead;
Her sire has breath'd his dying groan
In blessings on her head.
Her eyes dwell on one spot—there past
Her lover—there he gazed his last.
X
The deeply shrouded sunUpon the vault appears;
Like hope—when every joy is gone,
Seen through the mist of years,
That ray we view when sorrows press,
Pointing to distant happiness.
XI
The red sun's light is thereIn sombre radiance shed
Upon a slaughter'd maid—so fair,
You would not deem her dead;
One arm an aged man clasps round;—
Her life-blood weeps along the ground!
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