Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1823.pdf/86

85 Literary Gazette, 19th July 1823, Page 459

ORIGINAL POETRY. EXECUTION OF CRESCENTIUS. I looked upon his brow,—no sign Of guilt or fear were there, He stood as proud by that death shrine As even o'er despair He had a power; in his eye There was a quenchless energy, A spirit that could dare The deadliest form that death could take, And dare it for the daring's sake.

He stood, the fetters on his hand,— He raised them haughtily; And had that grasp been on the brand, It could not wave on high With freer pride than it waved now. Around he looked with changeless brow On many a torture nigh: The rack, the chain, the axe, the wheel, And, worst of all, his own red steel.

I saw him once before; he rode Upon a coal-black steed, And tens of thousands thronged the road And bade their warrior speed. His helm, his breastplate, were of gold, And graved with many a dint that told Of many a soldier's deed; The sun shone on his sparkling mail, And danced his snow-plume on the gale.

But now he stood chained and alone, The headsman by his side, The plume, the helm, the charger, gone; The sword, which had defied The mightiest, lay broken near; And yet no sign or sound of fear Came from that lip of pride; And never king or conqueror's brow Wore higher look than his did now.

He bent beneath the headsman's stroke With an uncovered eye; A wild shout from the numbers broke Who thronged to see him die. It was a people's loud acclaim, The voice of anger and of shame, A nation's funeral cry, Rome's wail above her only son, Her patriot, and her latest one.L. E. L.