 | The vision of Cortes, Cain, and other poems |  |
XV.
What should succeed such victory?—Why, wassailry, and laughter, wine,
Shouts, songs from gallant chivalry,
And prayers at brute devotion's shrine.
Drunk with success—the torches glare,
Now light the spacious walls, now throw,
Upon the silent river near,
A deadly and an awful glow.
The palace burns—awake the cry—
The palace burns—the flames are high;
And each infuriate soldier, hands
Some ruddier, more vindictive brands;
'Till in one awful blaze of light,
A ruin in unnatural might,
It curls in billowy seas of fire,
Ascending in a smoky spire,
'Till, toppling down, each heated wall
Is curved and bending to its fall—
The catapult, and down it goes,
Heedless, over friends and foes;
23
Send up a mix'd and giddy shout.
| The vision of Cortes, Cain, and other poems | |