ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. BY GENL. WILLIAM H. LYTLE.
Reading edition
William Haines Lytle was born at Cincinnati, O., in 1826, and died a hero’s death at Chickamauga in 1863. He enlisted in the Mexican war in 1846, and served with distinction. Afterwards he attained prominence as a lawyer and politician. When the civil war broke out he was appointed major general of volunteers. At Carnifex ferry he was desperately wounded, but recovered and took charge of a brigade. He was again wounded at Perryville and captured. Being exchanged, he was promoted to brigadier general and fought in many engagements till Sept. 29, 1863. His poems were never collected in book form. This one was written in 1857.
I am dying, Egypt, dying! Ebbs the crimson life-tide fast, And the dark Plutonian shadows Gather on the evening blast. Let thine arms, O queen, enfold me; Hush thy sobs and bow thine ear. Listen to the great heart secrets Thou, and thou alone, must hear.
Though my scarred and veteran legions Bear their eagles high no more, And my wrecked and scattered galleys Strew dark Actium’s fatal shore; Though no glittering guards surround me, Prompt to do their master’s will, I must perish like a Roman— Die the great Triumvir still!
Let no Cesar’s servile minions Mock the lion thus laid low; ’Twas no foeman’s arm that felled him; ’Twas his own that struck the blow— His who, pillowed on thy bosom, Turned aside from glory’s ray— His who, drunk with thy caresses, Madly threw a world away.
Should the base plebeian rabble Dare assail my name at Rome, Where my noble spouse, Octavia, Weeps within her widowed home, Seek her; say the gods bear witness— Altars, augurs, circling wings— That her blood with mine commingled, Yet shall mount the throne of kings.
As for thee, star-eyed Egyptian! Glorious sorceress of the Nile! Light the path to Stygian horrors With the splendors of thy smile. Give to Cæsar crowns and arches, Let his brow the laurel twine; I can scorn the senate’s triumphs, Triumphing in love like thine.
I am dying, Egypt, dying; Hark! the insulting foeman’s cry. They are coming—quick, my falchion! Let me front them ere I die. Ah! no more amid the battle Shall my heart exulting swell; Isis and Osiris guard thee! Cleopatra—Rome—farewell!