 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
76
MARCELLUS.
A conqueror that weeps for victory won!—O glorious soul, that mid the patriot fight
Raged as an Ajax in his ruthless might,
Then turn'd to mourn the havoc he had done!
So wept Marcellus, Rome's heroic son,
(When haughty Syracuse had fallen, despite
Her strength in Archimedes,)—and with care
Strove—not to butcher foemen, but—to spare:
Stop we not here; for ev'n a brighter act
Claims deeper homage: when avail'd not all
Thy pious care, but those fierce legions sack'd
The helpless city in its last dread fall,
When thy worst foe, thy subtlest, met his doom,
Thy nobler praise was Archimedes' tomb.
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