. . . Iusiurandum patri datum
usque ad hanc diem ita servavi . . .
. . . The oath given to my father I have kept to this day . . .
Hannibal
I
Why depart, O Shadow, arms folded on armor,
While torches play with their sparks round your knees? –
Your sword greened with laurel, wet from candles’ weeping,
A falcon takes flight, your horse raises its hoof like a dancer.
– Pennants sway, sway, be-swaying each other,
Like mobile tents of armies encamped in the skies.
Long trumpets choking with sobs, and banners
Bow with their wings down-cast from above,
Like spear-pierced dragons, lizards, and birds . . .
Like scores of theories you seized with your spears . . .
II
Maidens in mourning are walking: some raise in their arms
Fragrant sheaves that the wind tears apart high above;
Others collect in conches each tear that falls from each face,
Others, still seek the road built ages ago . . .
Others smash to the ground large vessels of clay,
Whose clatter, while cracking, engenders distress.
III
Boys strike with their axes blued by the sky,
Soldier youths bang shields russet from lights;
A banner, enormous, that sways in the smoke,
The point of its spear, you’d say, leans on sky’s dome . . .
IV
They enter a gorge and descend . . . then emerge into moonlight,
Turn black ’gainst the sky and are brushed with cold glitter,
Which like a star, unable to fall, skims their blades.
Their chorus went silent, then splashed out like a wave . . .
V
On – and on – till it’s time to tumble into the grave
That lurks ’cross the road, and black chasms open before us,
Which to traverse Mankind will find no way,
We’ll use a spear like on old spur to push your steed there . . .
VI
And we’ll drag the cortege, troubling slumbering forts,
Hitting their gates with urns, whistling through notches in axes,
Till Jericho’s walls go tumbling like logs,
Swooned hearts will revive – nations clear mold from their eyes . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
On – and on – –