Classic Poem

We were trapped in far oases,
And the darkness of our faces
Proclaims that for hard slavery and trouble we were born,
To live here as thralls and wretches,
With the beasts, on herbs and vetches,
The poor toilers of the city, the proud Carthaginian's scorn.

In our land of moss and melons
We lived not as hated felons;
We were princes plumed and radiant and the lords of many herds.
And we loved our shining beaches
And the fertile forest-reaches,
Ay! we loved the whir of arrows and the melodies of birds.

We had many a dusky maiden,
With white shells and coral laden,
To admire our agile dances and to give us kisses sweet;
We had countless flocks and shepherds,
And the glossy skins of leopards
Made us mantles for our bodies and soft covers for our feet.

We had captured skulls, as rightful,
In our tented towns delightful,
Ay! the skulls of those we hated and in loyal combat killed;
For our race was ever glorious
And eternally victorious,
While the rustle of our lances every soul with terror filled.

But there came a time of terror,
A sad day of wrong and error,
When the cavalry of Carthage, we had never met before,
By new modes and ways of battle
Mowed us down like helpless cattle,
And our king was left beheaded while the jackals drank his gore.

So, bereft of love, we languish
In our misery and anguish,
By our mighty gods forsaken while our brothers mourn our loss;
And we wait, bowed down in sorrow,
For the dire and dreaded morrow,
When to please the conquering rabble we shall writhe upon the cross!