by Thomas B. Macaulay
A Lay Sung at the Banquet in the Capitol, on the Day Whereon
Manius Curius Dentatus, a Second Time Consul, Triumphed Over King
Pyrrhus and the Tarentines, in the Year of the City CCCCLXXIX.
I
Now slain is King Amulius,
Of the great Sylvian line,
Who reigned in Alba Longa,
On the throne of Aventine.
Slain is the Ponfiff Camers,
Who spake the words of doom:
"The children to the Tiber,
The mother to the tomb."
II
In Alba's lake no fisher
His net to-day is flinging;
On the dark rind of Alba's oaks
To-day no axe is ringing;
The yoke hangs o'er the manger;
The scythe lies in the hay:
Through all the Alban villages
No work is done to-day.
Continued next week. Tomorrow's installment from the great Arab book Thousand and One Nights.
A collection consisting exclusively of war-songs would give anScottish poet Macaulay published this in 1842.
imperfect, or rather an erroneous, notion of the spirit of the
old Latin ballads.
Photo, CC-BY-SA-3.0.
More information here:
Check the right column | More of this Series |
No comments:
Post a Comment