Classic Poem

We are monarchs of the sea,
And before us ever flee
The great vessels of the Romans, ay, like doves before the thunder!
We can terrify all Rome,
When we speed through blood and foam
To their harbors and their vineyards, there to revel and to plunder!

We can count ten thousand oars
Upon our and distant shores,
On our haughty prows e'er glitter the fierce eyes of sculptured horses;
We are dreaded as a pest
By our enemies oppressed,
And the beaches of their inlets are all crimson with their corses.

Oh! we long to sail again
To the fair Sicilian main,
For great Melcarth is propitious, and the skies are full of omens.
And with fury we will fall
On the coasts and slaughter all
The effeminate and craven haughty rabble of the Romans!

Yea! we clamor for the fray;
We have spent our spoil and pay,
And we need the touch of money and the clinking of rare prizes,
While a hatred of the foe
Makes our martial bosoms glow,
And our cry for blood and battle in magnificence arises!

In mean leather coin they pay
Our great services to-day,
For the Senate dreams or revels and forgets its staunch defender!
We need purple gold and bright,
And more women for the night,
Ay! more women, white and wanton, women oiled, and sweet, and tender.

Where is Hanno with his sword?
Our great admiral and lord
Must be hot with wine and spices in the chambers of a harlot,
For he hath deserted now
His victorious vessel's prow,
And doth chant the praise of Tanit in his rustling robes of scarlet.

Are we doomed no more to fight
And to burn great towns at night?
Must we linger here like fish-men, gazing calmly at the water?
Oh, great Hanno! rise! appear!
Beckon Romeward with thy spear,
For we yearn to hear the trumpets drown the shrieking and the slaughter.