Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Pompeii

Pompeii.

Pompeii, a town in Italy, at the foot of Mount Vesuvius, was to Rome what Brighton is to London. It was suddenly overwhelmed by an eruption of the mountain, 23rd August, A.D. 79.

In the halls of Pompeii resounded the song,And the lovely were there, and the brave, and the strong;From the minstrel's sweet lyre flowed the measure of gladness,And far, far away fled the demon of sadness,But an hour—and crushed was the might of the bold,And the heart that just bounded lay senseless and cold;The pæan no longer was heard in the grove,And hushed was the choir in the temple of Jove;For there burst from the deep-yawning caves of the mountain,A torrent of fire, like the stream of a fountain,Like the wide-flaming flood of the terrible rain,Which the Lord in his wrath poured on Sodoma's plain:—Ay, rent was the womb of the mountain asunder,Crash pealed upon crash like the deep rolling thunder, And the waters of Sarn, and the waves of the oceanWere lashed into foam by the dreadful commotion;And the caves of Capreï were felt to rebound,And the rocks of Misenum re-echoed the sound,—The black heavens lowered, and the pestilent airWas filled with wild tumult and shrieks of despair,In vain the bold rider urged forward his steed—In vain the fleet courser exerted his speed,For the blast of destruction came fast as the wind,Or the dreadful simoom in the desert of Ind.There the warrior lay stretched in the midst of his pride,And the bridegroom fell dead by the corpse of his bride;Unswept was the lyre, and forsaken the lute,And the lips of the minstrel for ever was mute.But who can describe the wild anguish and sorrow,And the sighs and the tears that were poured on the morrow,When the horrible night of destruction was past,And the dawn sadly smiled on the desolate waste?Or who can describe the poor wanderer's despair,When with heart full of love and bright visions so fair,He turned to his house, all his wanderings o'er,But found his poor home and his country no more?What, a feeling of lonely desertion came o'er him,As he gazed on the soul-rending prospect before him!And the heart at that moment remembered too wellHis wife's sad adieu, and his children's farewell;And he struck his sad breast in the depth of his woe,And the big drops of anguish burst forth from his brow.And he turned once again from the land of his birthTo wander forlorn on the face of the earth.