Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs By Walter Thornbury. Illustrated by J. Whistler, F. Walker, John Tenniel, J. D. Watson, W. Small, F. Sandys, G. J. Pinwell, T. Morten, M. J. Lawless, and many others |
 |
 |
The Cumæan Sibyl.
|
|
 | Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs |  |
107
The Cumæan Sibyl.
I
King Tarquin sat beside the open door,Looking towards Soracte, as the west
108
Reddening the broidered bands upon his vest,
The gold that bound his brow and sandals rimmed;
With a rich vintage splendour deluging,
The sunset filled from out its vase-like globe
The new-built palace of the Roman King.
II
It crimsoned the white marble temple walls,And turned the Tiber to a stream of blood,
Boding Rome's future: Romulus's shield
Shone not more ruby than that rolling flood
The sun incarnadined; as from the west,
Out of that splendour gliding calm and slow,
There moved a figure with a hooded face,
That passed into the dark from out the glow.
III
A priestess, she had come with sacred books,That Roman wealth may buy; but, cold and hard,
Tarquin with mocking smile smote on his sword,
And struck the ground to call his bodyguard,
And spurned the scrolls the Sibyl humbly laid
Upon the floor. “Begone, thou witch!” he cried,
“Three hundred pieces of our hard-won gold?
Hag, dotard, hence! or we will tame thy pride.”
IV
Sunset once more, and Tarquin's Volscian slavesToiled at the ramparts of the temple hill;
Again through boding bars of crimson light
The Sibyl came, and grave and proudly still
Proffered the books; but only four were left;
Still the same price she asked. The King arose
To strike the beldam with his dagger-heft,
And from his presence drive her forth with blows.
V
Another twilight, and again she cameGliding from out the brightness without sound.
Only three books were left; the envious fire
Had shrunk the precious hoard. Two Gabians bound
Cowered before scornful Tarquin's all-consuming wrath;
The Sibyl laid the books upon his throne,
Drew her thick hood over her wrinkled face,
And stood like Niobe new turned to stone.
VI
“Lost opportunities,” exclaimed a sage,“Have voices for the wise; beware, O King,
Lest you reject the presents of the Gods:
From pride alone one-half life's sorrows spring.”
Then Tarquin bent, and from an ivory chest
Scooped out two handfuls of the Volscian gold,
And threw it to the Sibyl; slow her hand
Hid it within her mantle's dusky fold.
109
VII
Then gliding to the shadow of the wall,—Shadow that swiftly widened,—she became,
E'en as they gazed, a blurred and shapeless fog,
Tinged here and there with glimmer of a flame,
Such as the sunset leaves in the dim west
Cresting the Sabine Hills; then flickering low
Like the marsh fire at sunrise, it grew dark
Throughout all Rome, save on one shrine below.
| Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs | |