Siege of Corinth, The

By Lord Byron

XXXIII

XXXIII

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So near they came, the nearest stretch`d
To grasp the spoil he almost reach`d
When old Minotti`s hand
Touch`d with a torch the train —
`Tis fired!
Spire, vaults, and shrine, the spoil, the slain,
The turban`d victors, the Christian band,
All that of living or dead remain,
Hurl`d on high with the shiver`d fane,
In one wild roar expired!
The shatter`d town — the walls thrown down —
The waves a moment backward bent —
The hills that shake, although unrent,
As if an earthquake pass`d —
The thousand shapeless things all driven
In cloud and flame athwart the heaven,
By that tremendous blast —
Proclaim`d the desperate conflict o`er
On that too long afflicted shore!
Up to the sky like rockets go
All that mingled there below:
Many a tall and goodly man,
Scorch`d and shrivell`d to a span,
When he fell to earth again
Like a cinder strew`d the plain:
Down the ashes shower like rain;
Some fell in the gulf, which received the sprinkles
With a thousand circling wrinkles;
Some fell on the shore, but, far away,
Scatter`d o`er the isthmus lay;
Christian or Moslem, which be they?
Let their mothers see and say!
When in cradled rest they lay,
And each nursing mother smiled
On the sweet sleep of her child,
Little deem`d she such a day
Would rend those tender limbs away.
Not the matrons that them bore
Could discern their offspring more;
That one moment left no trace
More of human form or face
Save a scatter`d scalp or bone:
And down came blazing rafters, strown
Around, and many a falling stone,
Deeply dinted in the clay,
All blacken`d there and reeking lay.
All the living things that heard
That deadly earth-shock disappear`d.
The wild birds flew; the wild dogs fled,
And howling left the unburied dead;
The camels from their keepers broke;
The distant steer forsook the yoke —
The nearer steed plunged o`er the plain,
And burst his girth, and tore his rein;
The bull-frog`s note, from out the marsh,
Deep-mouth`d arose, and doubly harsh;
The wolves yell`d on the cavern`d hill
Where echo roll`d in thunder still;
The jackal`s troop, in gather`d cry,
Bay`d from afar complainingly,
With mix`d and mournful sound,
Like crying babe, and beaten hound:
With sudden wing, and ruffled breast,
The eagle left his rocky nest,
And mounted nearer to the sun,
The clouds beneath him seem`d so dun
Their smoke assail`d his startled beak,
And made him higher soar and shriek —
Thus was Corinth lost and won!


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