Thou of the ten years’ war!
City of marble palaces—no more
Hard by the mountains art thou throned a Queen,
Beside the sounding shore.
Where is thy crown of olives ever-green?
How is thy regal head with anguish bowed!
Ah! woe is me, enveloped in a cloud
Of leaguering foemen are thy smoking walls,
Blood-stained and desolate thy halls.
In the deep hush of night
Fate fell upon us … in the hour of joy;
In the first flush of our triumphant might,
Glory, and Victory.
The bowl was circling, and the festive floor
With wild flowers sprinkled o’er.
We wove the mazy dance in choral bands,
With eyes responsive and united hands
And thrilling melodies.
My husband on the bed,
Warrior out-worn, was lying; and his breast
Filled with the dewy rest:
For thou, O raven-plumed power,
Wert o’er him waving thy Lethean wings,
Flinging thy poppied odors o’er
His languid breast and eyes;
All grateful rites complete, and pious sacrifice.
But I my ringlets dark
(A young and happy bride)
Was braiding, not unconscious of my charms,
Before the mirror wide:
Now for the first time freed from war’s alarms
To lay me by his side
Whose breast was filled with dreams of peace:—but hush!
A long and piercing cry
Comes ringing thro’ the sky,
A sound of struggling men and clashing arms.
With robe unbound—with hair
Streaming upon the air;
Zoneless as Spartan maid, Pallas, to thee;
O Virgin Deity!
I rush in tearless agony—I bear
The maids’ and matrons’ prayer.
In vain—ah! what availed
Those wild embraces or that mute despair?
Ah! what availed? These eyes, these eyes beheld
The husband slaughtered on the household hearth
In sight of all his gods; but when the wave
With its unheeding rave,
Was bearing me from thee, my place of birth,
As from mine eye down sank high tower and gate,
Ruined and desolate.…
At last my agony
Burst forth into one long and fainting cry—
I fell upon my face—I knew myself a slave.