| |
| IS then that daring spirit fled? | |
| Doth Alaric slumber with the dead? | |
| Tamed are the warrior’s pride and strength, | |
| And he and earth are calm at length. | |
| The land where heaven unclouded shines, | 5 |
| Where sleep the sunbeams on the vines; | |
| The land by conquest made his own, | |
| Can yield him now—a grave alone. | |
| But his—her lord from Alp to sea— | |
| No common sepulchre shall be! | 10 |
| O, make his tomb where mortal eye | |
| Its buried wealth may ne’er descry! | |
| Where mortal foot may never tread | |
| Above a victor monarch’s bed. | |
| Let not his royal dust be hid | 15 |
| ’Neath star-aspiring pyramid; | |
| Nor bid the gathered mound arise, | |
| To bear his memory to the skies. | |
| Years roll away,—oblivion claims | |
| Her triumph o’er heroic names; | 20 |
| And hands profane disturb the clay | |
| That once was fired with glory’s ray; | |
| And avarice, from their secret gloom, | |
| Drags e’en the treasures of the tomb. | |
| But thou, O leader of the free! | 25 |
| That general doom awaits not thee: | |
| Thou, where no step may e’er intrude, | |
| Shalt rest in regal solitude, | |
| Till, bursting on thy sleep profound, | |
| The Awakener’s final trumpet sound. | 30 |
| Turn ye the waters from their course, | |
| Bid nature yield to human force, | |
| And hollow in the torrent’s bed | |
| A chamber for the mighty dead. | |
| The work is done,—the captive’s hand | 35 |
| Hath well obeyed his lord’s command. | |
| Within that royal tomb are cast | |
| The richest trophies of the past, | |
| The wealth of many a stately dome, | |
| The gold and gems of plundered Rome; | 40 |
| And when the midnight stars are beaming, | |
| And ocean waves in stillness gleaming, | |
| Stern in their grief, his warriors bear | |
| The Chastener of the Nations there, | |
| To rest at length from victory’s toil, | 45 |
| Alone, with all an empire’s spoil! | |
| |
| Then the freed current’s rushing wave | |
| Rolls o’er the secret of the grave; | |
| Then streams the martyred captives’ blood | |
| To crimson that sepulchral flood, | 50 |
| Whose conscious tide alone shall keep | |
| The mystery in its bosom deep. | |
| Time hath passed on since then, and swept | |
| From earth the urns where heroes slept; | |
| Temples of gods and domes of kings | 55 |
| Are mouldering with forgotten things; | |
| Yet not shall ages e’er molest | |
| The viewless home of Alaric’s rest: | |
| Still rolls, like them, the unfailing river, | |
| The guardian of his dust forever. | 60 |
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