A Goth's perspective on the fall of Rome, C.E. 410

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A Goth's perspective on the fall of Rome, C.E. 410

Postby Saturn » Thu Mar 22, 2007 12:17 pm

I wrote this about five years ago and I came upon it again while looking in my old notebooks after a brief perusal of Edward Gibbon's chapter on this subject and decided to rework this little piece a bit.

Very juvenile you may say but it is an interesting read for me anyway :oops:

This is one from my early rhetorical Augustan period :wink:

A Goth's perspective on the fall of Rome, C.E. 410

Despoiler of Italy, Cathage and Gaul
Why should I lament a tyrant's fall?
Roma, whose triumphant bloody car
Mangled all nations and cities afar
Now, at length is repaid in kind.

This salutary lesson to mankind
Of the folly of conquest and war
Shows it infectious, a green sore
Which, in time will again let blood
And brimmeth over, a crimson flood
Of red vengeance for ancient wrong
Dissembled and festered too long.

Sack, pillage, rapine and deceit
Were the rude arts used to defeat
All visible lands of the fertile globe
To clothe them all in imperial robe,
Flattering Caesar with eternal domain
One Alexander dared hope t'atttain.

Why stand affright, full of dismay?
Yesteryears debts we only repay.
Even we pity and deplore the doom
Of that mistress and her groom
But think we of peoples ruined by Rome,
Nations enslaved, cities raised to loam
By a thousand Consuls, legions abroad
Who trembled at Hannibal when he trod .

Remember Thessalonika and old Corinth
And countless others carved on the plinth
Of that great annal of history and chance
Written by Fortuna and Mars with a glance
Of his awful, blood-stained vermillion face
Wherein death and destruction we trace;
Deep riven cavities of abysmal despair
Mark the scarlet complexion of warfare.

His broad shield shows, by Vulcan's art
All the calamities of earth, as a chart
Portraying every each, battle and sally
Numbering too Deaths ceaseless tally.
Such a shield, if real, would limes scorn.

Even high on Olympus cloud-top mourn
The immortals for mankind's fatal sin
Whether inflicted on foreigner or kin;
For careless violence for honour's sake
Only leaves resentment in it's wake.
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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