The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1891-07-08
II AM DYING, EGYPT, DYING"
Story Of the Author, and
His Tragic Death IA Feeling
which Was More Startling Than n

A gentleman acquainted with Colone
Realf, relates story told by him when tn
two spent night in conversation, criticism
and recollections, over cosy fire and warn
decoctions. He spoke Of the night before tn
battle of Chicamauga in 1868, at which Gen
eral w. S. Lytle fell. They were both givel
to writing poetry, and each had an uniinish
ed poem on hand, and they read and criticised
each others efforts humorously Tor som
time, when Lytle said:
"Realf shall never live to finish tina
poem."
"Nonsense," said I,,".you will live to writ
volumes OF such stuf1."
continued the general solcmnly, "Which !
more startling than prophecy, that l shal
be killed in tO-morrow's fight. AS spoke 4
you, saw the green hills OF the ONO, as
stood among Them. They began to reced
from me, in n weird way. and, as thcy dlsap
peared, the conviction flashed through me
like the ightning's shock, that would neVe
see them again." .,., A.,
belief had become strangely impressed upol
his mind, and he succeeded In so far tnrlll
ing me with his own unnatural fear, that
begged him to finish his poem before III
slept.
me from slumbcr, Into which / had fallen
to read TO me that beautiful poem, whlcl
must live rs long as our literature survives
"My eyes filled with tears as he read. RI
manucrpt in his pocket. and lay down u
sleep. Before dawn, came the call TO arms.
When | next saw poor I.ylle he was cola u
death, among the heaps OF slain. though
of the poem, and, searching the pocket Wher
had seen him put it, drew 1t forth. 1t Is a
follows:
am dying, Egypt, dying
Ebbs the crimson lfe.iide fast,
And the dark Plutonian shadows
Gather on the evening blast;
Let thine arms, oh Queen, support me,
Hush thy sobs and bow thine ear
Listen TO the great heart secrets
Thou, and thou alone must hear.
Tho my SCARED and vet'ran legions
Bear their eagles Ugh no more,
Tho my wreck and shatter'd gallcys
Strew da rk Actiums fatal shore;
Tho no glitt'ring guards surround me,
Prompt to do their masters VIII,
must perish like a Roman,
Die, the great Trlumyir Sill.
Let not C,csar's servile minions
Mock the lion thus laid low,
twas no foeman's hand that slew him,
Twas his own that dealt the blow
Hear, then, plll0wed on thy bosom,
Ere his star shall lose its ray,
ii I'm who, drunk with Thy carcsses,
Madly flung world away.
Should the base plebean rabblc
Dare assail my fame at Rome,
w ucTC MY HODle SpOuSe, pGlhNid,
Wceps within her widowed home;
Seek her, say the gods have told me,
Affairs, augurs, circling wings,
That her blood with mine com mingled,
Yet shall mount the throne of kings.
And for thee, star.eyed Egyptian,
Glorious SocercSs of the Nile,
Light my path to Stygian horrors,
Wi:h the splendor Of thy smile;
Give this Cesar crowns and arches,
Let his brow the laurel twine;
can Scorn the Seuate's trlImphS-
Trumphlng In love like thine.
am dying, Egypt, dying
Hark TIL Insulting fOeman's cry;
They are coming! Quick, my falchion!
Let me front them ere die.
An! no more amid the battle
Shall my heart eXulting swell
Isis and Osiris guard thee,
Cleopatra! Rome! Farewell!