Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1882-02-23
An Old Poem and Its His,orv.

A correspondent Of the Inter Ocean
writes:
Doubtless many of our readers have
read General w. S. Lytle's fine poem.
Cleopatra" written the night before
the battle in which he was killed. Tho
Piltshurg Leader relates the romantic
circumstances under which il WAS writ
ten. The. were told. by the late
Colonel R'alf to gentleman. He
spoke Of the night before the battle at
which General L,tle fell. TIE two
(Realf and Lylle) lay together in the
Generals tent. They were both given
to writing poetry at such times, and
each had an unfinished poem on land,
and they read aud criticised each 9TH
er's efforts humorOusly for some time,
when said Lytle:
"Realf. shall never live to finish
that po"m."
Nonsense" said ], ''you will live 10
write volumes of such stuff"
"a feeling has suddenly come over
me-" CONT ued the General solemnly,
which is more startling than q pro-
phecy. that | shall be Lilled in to-mur-
rows fight. As spoke 10 you | saw
the green hills of the Ohio as if / stood
among them. They began to recede
fOm me in we irl way, and as they
disappeared the conviction flashed
through mn like the lighlning's shock
that woul never see them again"
rallied him for his superstition. but
the belief hal become strangely inn
pressed upon his mind, and he succeed
ed in so far thrilling me with his own
unnatural fear, thai l begged him to
finish his poem before he slept, that
such fine work might not be lost to the
wOr d.
In the small hours the General awak-
ened me from slumber into which
had fallen. 10 read me that beautiful
poem, which must live rs long as our
literature survives, beginning:
lam dying, Egypt, dying,
Ebbs the crimson life-blood fast.
NV eyes filled with tears rs he read.
He said not a word as he concluded,
but placed the manuscript in his pocket
and lay down to sleep.
Before dawn came the call to arms.
When / next saw poor Lytle he was
cold in death among heaps of slain.
thought of the poem, and searching
the pocket where had seen him pul
it, drew it forth, and it was forwarded
among other things 10 his friends.
lam dying, Egypt, dying!
Ebbs the crimson lifetide fast,
And the dark Plutonian shadows
Gather on the evening blast;
Let thine arm, o Queen, enfod me,
Hush thy sObs and bow thine ear,
Listen to the great heart secrets
Thou, and thou alone, must hear.
Though my SCARED and veteran legions
Bear their eagles high no more,
AMI my wrecked and scattered galleys
Strew dark Actium's fatal shore;
Though no glittering guard surround me
Prompt TO do their masters will,
Unjust perish like Roman,
Die the great Triumvir still.
Let not Caesars servile minions
| Mock the lion thus made low;
Twas no foeman's arm that felled him,
Twas his own that struck the blow
| His who, pilowed on thy bosom,
| Turned aside from glory's ray
He who, drunk with my caresses,
| Madly threw world away.
| Should the base plebian rabble
| Dare assail my name at Rome,
When the noble spouse, Octavia,
| Weeps within her widowed home,
Seek her; say the gods bear witness,
Affairs, augurs, circling wings,
| That her blood, with mine commingled,
Yet shall mount to thrones of kings.
| And for thee, star-eyed Egyptianl
| Glorious sources of the Nile,
Light the path to Stygian horrors
| With the splendors of thy smile.
Give the Caesar crowns and arches,
Let his brow the laurel twine:
can scorn the Senate's triumphs,
Triumphing in love like thine.
l am dying, Egypt, dying,
Hark the insulting foeman's cry;
They are coming. quick, my falchion,
Let me front them ere die.
Ah no more amid the battle
Snail my heart exulting swell;
Isis and OSias guard thee
! Cleopatra, Rome, farewell"