The Rutland daily globe. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1873-1877, 1875-01-02
DIRGE OF ALAupC.
WRITTEN BY EDWARD EVERETT WHEN FOUR
TEEN YEARS or AoT.

Alartc the vlslgoth stormed and spoiled the
W OF Rome, and was afterward buried In the
hich had been diverted from its course, that
le body might be Inferred.
When am dead, no pageant train
Shall waste their sorrows at my bier,
Nor worthless pomp OF homage vain
stain Il with hypocritlc tear;
For Will die as did live,
Nor take the boon cannot give.
fo shall not raise marble bust
Upon the spot where repose
Ye shall not fawn before my dust,
In hollow circumstance OF woes;
No scUlptured clay, with lying breath,
Insult the clay that lies beneath
Yeshall not pile, with servile toll,
Your monuments upon my breast,
Nor yet within the common soil
Lay down the wreck OF power to rest
Where 10 IN can boast that he has trod
on him that was the "scourge Of God"
But ye the mountain stream'shall. turn,
And lay It's secret channel bare,
And hollow for your soverelgn's urn,
A resting place forever there
Then bid It's everlasting springs
Flow back upon the klUg ~ kings
And never be the secret said,
Untll the deep give up his dead.
NV gold and silver we shall fling
Back TO the clods that gave them birth
The captured crowns Ut many a King,
The ,nsom OF conquered earth;
For e'en though dead. win 1 control
The trophies OF the capitol.
But when, beneath the mountain tide.
Ie've laid your monarch down to rest
le shall not rear upon It's side
pillar or mound TO mark the spot
For long enough the world has shook
Beneath the terrors OF my look;
And now that | have run my raca,
Tho astonishcd realms SHAH rest space.
Ny course was like q river deep;
And from the northern hills burst,
Across the world in wrath 10 sweep,
And where | went the spot was cursed,
Nor blade OF grass again was seen
Where Alalic and his hosts had been.
See how their naughty barriers fall
Beneath the terror OF the Goth,
Their iron breasted legions quail
Before my ruthless SubaOth,
And low the queen OF empire knecl3
And grovcl5 at my chariot wheels.
Not for myself did ascend
In judgment my triumphal car;
i was God alone on high did send
The ayengng Scyihlan on to war,
To shake abroad, with Iron hand,
rlle appointed scourge OF his c0mmanc.
With iron hand that scourge reared
oer guilty king ana guilty realm
Destruction was the ship steered,
And vengeance sat upon the helm.
When launched In fury upon the flood,
ploushed my way through seas OF bood,
And In the streams their hearts had split,
Washed out the long arrears Of guilt.
Across the everlasting Alp
poured the torrent OF my powers,
And feeble Cmsars shrleked for help.
In vain, within their seven hilled towers
quenched In blood the brightest gem
That glittered In their diadem,
AMI struck n darker, deeper dye
In the purple of their majesty,
And babe my northern banners shine
Upon the conquered Palestine.
MY course Is run, my errand done
go to him from whom came;
But never yet shall set the sun
or glory that adorns my name;
Aud roman hearts shall long be SILK,
When men shall think of Alarlc.
NY course Is run, my errand done;
But darker ministers or fate,
Impatient round the eternal throne,
And in the caves OF vengeance wait;
Aud soon mankind shall blench away
Before the name OF Attila.