The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1881-08-31
1 am Dying, Egypt, Dying.
IPHts6ur0 LEADER


4 gentleman acquainted with Colonel
Rcalf, relates a story told by him when
The two spent a night in conversation,
criticisms and recollections, over a cosy
fire and warm decoctions. He spoke OF
the night before the battle at which Gen
eral W. S. Lytle fell. They were both
given to writing poetry, and each had an
unfinished poem on hand, and they read
and criticized each others efforts humor-
ously for some time, when Lyle said
"Realf, l shall never live to finish that
poem"
Nonsense" said I, "you will live to
write volumes of such stuff"
"a feeling has suddenly come yer mo-
continued the general solemnly, (Which
is more startling than a prophecy, that |
shall be killed in to-morrow's fight. ASH
spoke to you. I saw the green hills of the
Ohio, as if l stood among them. They
began to recede from me, in q weird way,
and, as they disappeared, the conviction
flashed through ME, like the ~lightning's
shock, that I would never see them
again."
~ rallied him for his superstition, but
the belief had become strangely Impress
far thrilling me with his own unnatural
lCdl, ia L oCSSCu 1ild1 - A61o htS PoS"t
before he slept.
"In the small hours the general awak-
ened mo from a slumber, into which |
had fallen, to read to me that beautiful
poem, which must live as long as our lit
erature survives.
"My eyes filled with tears as he read.
IIe snid not a word as he concluded,
placed the manuscript in his pocket, and
lay down to sleep. Before dawn, came
the call to arms When I next saw poor
| Lytle he was cold in death, among heaps
Of slain. I thought of the poem, and,
searching tho pocket where I had seen
him put it, drew it forth"
I am dying, Egypt, dying
Ebbs she crimson ~life-ttie fast.
And the dark Plutonion shadows
Gather on the evening blast:
Let thine arms. oh Queen; support mo-
! Listen to the great heart secrets
Thou, and alone must hear.
Tho MY SCARED and vet'ran leglons
Bear their eagles high no more,
! Tho my wreck'd and shatter'd galleys
Strew dark ActiuIn's fatal shore;
Tho no glittrine guards surround ME
Promt TO their masters will,
I must perish like a Roman,
Die, the great Triumvir still.
| Let not Caesars servlle minions
Mock the lion thus laid low,
Twas no foenan's hand that slew him,
Twas his own that dealt the blow;
! Hear. then. pillowcd on thy bosom,
Ere his star shall lose Its ray,
Him who drunk with thy carcsscs,
Madly flung q world away.
Should the base pIebean rnbb1e
Dare assail my fame ut Rome,
Where my noble spouse. Octavin,
Weeps within her widowed home;
Seek her, say the gods have told me,
Alters. augurS, circling wings,
That hfr blood with mine comminelcd,
Yet snpll mount the throne OF kings.
And 70: thee, stnr-cyed Egyptian,
GlorloNs SOccrcss OF the Nile,
Light my path to Styglan horrors
With the splendor OF thy smile;
Give this Caesar crowns and arches,
Lot his bro " the laurel twlne;
7 cnn scorn tha Senntc's triumphs-
Triumphing IN love like thine,
I nm dying. Egypt, dying
IIark! Tn insulting tneman's cry:
They are coming! Quick, my falchion!
Let me front them ere / die.
All! no more amid the battle
Shall my heart exulting swell
; Isis and Osiris guard thee,
Clcopatra, Rome, FAREWELL.