Page:Poems Denver.djvu/57

A darker recollection came,
 Of griefs beyond control,
To blow on high the withering flame,
 That burnt within his soul.

No foeman's voice is on the gale,
 No banner floats on high,
He hears no warrior's dying wail
 Rise on the troubled sky;
But lowly kneeling by his side,
 He hears the stifled sigh
Of him, who spurned with victor-pride,
 The crown of Italy.

Where was the strength that ever led
 Thy hosts to victory?
Justinian! where the eye that shed
 A glory even on thee?
0, mighty warrior! could the brand,
 A fame like thine molest:
Thy strength is gone, and envy's hand
 Has blotted out the rest.

Justinian gazed upon the form,
 That in a prouder hour,
Had backward swept amidst the storm,
 The fierce barbarian power.
What could such earnest woe import
 As that which met his eye?
Conscience came trembling to his heart.
 And whispered, "It was I."