Classic Poem

The arm'd Armenian on the guard that night
About the palace precincts somnolent,
Where, like a weary beetle, came and went
Across the flinty platform, — else dead-dumb —
The slumbrous city's desultory hum,
Heard, pacing drowsy-cold (his watch nigh done)
Beneath the stars, thro' shrivelling silence run
A sudden scream, fierce, devilish, agonized,
Of quintessential pain; and all surprised,
Started upon the watch, — waiting what sound
Should follow. But that dreadful cry, soon drown'd
In dreadful silence, response none uproused,
Save of an owlish echo half unhoused
Among the moody towers, that down again
With churlish mumblings in her mason'd den
Settled to slumber.
Then the soldier said,
Laughing at the discovery he had made
Of what, to him at least, that sound meant, " So!
To-morrow, and the amphorae shall flow.
Increase of pay to all the Armenian Guard! "
Whereat he turn'd, and (while i' the east, black-barr'd
With lazy clouds, slow-oozed a watery light)
Waited, well pleased, the trump of dawn.