Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE BATTLE OF VIENNA, by SEYMOUR GREEN WHEELER BENJAMIN First Line: The stern besieger's fiery balls Last Line: Where bosphor's shores in beauty swell. Subject(s): Vienna | ||||||||
THE stern besieger's fiery balls Had crumbled haughty Vienna's walls, And slow adown the leaguered town Stalked Famine, Death, and wan Despair. The garrison fell one by one, And nightly was the sulphurous air Illumined by the exploding bomb Descending like the bolt of doom. 'Neath his pavilion Mustapha, Since Fate betrayed the proud Pasha, Laughed at his clamorous legionaries, "Lead on! can yonder walls defy The valor of the Janizaries! Command the storm!" his soldiers cry: Reclined in state, the Grand Vizier Dozed on, nor recked of danger near. What sudden dread appalls the host? Where now the Tartar's ribald boast? What panic moves each delhi's soul? Hark! Sobiesky's lancers come! Hark! hear ye not his cannon roll?" Each eye foresees the general doom, And Mustapha, a stricken man, Marshals in haste his bristling van. Steel helms and bucklers caught the blaze Of the low sun's departing rays; Then moonlight silvered Danube's flood, But war was on the twilight breeze; Cymbal and drum-beat stirred the blood With shrill and martial melodies, While charger's neigh and trumpet's bray Urged loudly to the mortal fray. A lion in his wrath came on The champion of the cross, King John. "Charge!" thundered Poland's hero king: Triumphant shouts the welkin rend; The squadrons' clashing sabres ring As they to victory descend. "They fly, they fly! avenge, ye Poles, The memory of your fathers' souls!" But lo! a prodigy in heaven! The crescent moon, the maid of even, Behind a pall of awful gloom Now hides her soft, resplendent face, "Is 't not the fatal sign of doom To all the sons of Osman's race, Yon dire and terrible eclipse?" Mutters the Turk with whitening lips. Deep anguish smote the invader's host: "The crescent wanes, and all is lost When Allah helps the Christian's need!" Fear palsied now the Spohr's right hand; He turned his back, he spurred his steed, And, flying, dropped his jewelled brand, For like gaunt wolves in northern lands, The Poles pursued the routed bands. The peaceful Danube kissed the shore With waves that blushed with human gore; The ravens held a fest that night On flesh of steed and flesh of man; And when the battle turned to flight, What spoil the victors gathered then, -- Damascus blades of price untold, And broidered tents, and cups of gold. Now joy was in proud Vienna's town; Brave Staremberg had won renown; The sweet cathedral bells were rung As for a May-day festival, And Sobiesky's fame was sung Throughout the lordly capital. But terror fell on all who dwell Where Bosphor's shores in beauty swell. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DELIVERANCE OF VIENNA by VINCENZO DA FILICAJA THE SIEGE OF VIENNA by VINCENZO DA FILICAJA BEETHOVEN (VIENNA - 1900) by RICHARD WATSON GILDER INCOGNITA IN THE TEMPLE OF THESEUS by SEYMOUR GREEN WHEELER BENJAMIN THE BOSPHORUS REVISITED by SEYMOUR GREEN WHEELER BENJAMIN THE OLD BRIDGE by SEYMOUR GREEN WHEELER BENJAMIN SONG OF THE RABBITS OUTSIDE THE TAVERN by ELIZABETH JANE COATSWORTH TYRANNICK [TYRANNIC] LOVE: SONG by JOHN DRYDEN THE SONG OF SHERMAN'S ARMY by CHARLES GRAHAM HALPINE NEGRO by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES |
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