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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
SERVIA, by RICHARD HENRY STODDARD Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Where now the servian and the turk Last Line: Piled with a hundred thousand dead! Subject(s): Serbia; Turkmen; Servia; Turkomans | |||
WHERE now the Servian and the Turk, Born foes, as slave and master are, Are at their grim old murderous work, Grappling in most unequal war, Six hundred years ago, or more, The land was wasted, as to-day, Overrun, as when the shore gives way And the wild waves devour the shore, By Tartar tribes as wild as they, The barbarous horde of Genghis Khan, Who scourged mankind as never man Before or since, as if he were Hell-sent to pitch his dark pavilions Upon the grave of slaughtered millions, And make the earth a sepulchre! Down from the steppes of Tartary His countless thousands swept for years, -- His long-haired horsemen with their spears, His bowmen with their arrows keen; Such pitiless fiends were never seen Till then, and worst of all was he, Destruction's self, whose iron tread Shook kingdoms: peaceful peoples lay Secure before him in Cathay; He passed that way and they were dead! Across the swift, swollen winter rivers, Across the hot, parched summer sands, With bended bows and bristling quivers, And spears and scimitars in their hands, Rushed Tartar, Mongol, Turkoman, To do the bidding of Genghis Khan, -- Through Russia, Poland, down to where Morava is; they halted there. Before they came there was -- if not Perpetual peace, which nowhere reigns, So darkly Nature shapes our ends -- There still were times when men forgot They had been foes, and might be friends, Having the same blood in their veins. Princes and peoples prospered. Now -- How do we track the savage sea, When its spent waves no longer roar, But by their ravage of the shore Whose once tall cliffs have ceased to be? Such was the track of Genghis Khan, Who from his boyhood overran The lands, and made their rulers bow To his imperious will or whim, As if the world belonged to him. Temples and towers were trampled down, Were pillaged, and were set on fire; Pagoda, mosque, and Christian spire, The great walled city, little town, The herdsman's hut, the monarch's hall, -- He pillaged and destroyed them all: The work of death was never done, For everywhere along their track Were flights of vultures; everywhere The wolves came trooping from their lair, -- Came famished, and went glutted back. The smoke of battle dimmed the sun, And darkness like a funeral pall Was on the ruins, -- all were black, Save when the embers smouldered red: It was as if the Earth were dead, And they heaped ashes on her head! They halted in Morava. Nay, They were defeated there and then, By Slavic chiefs and Slavic men, -- Warriors more desperate than they, Whose spears and lances cleft their way To where their horsemen were at bay, And horse and rider rolled in dust; And whose sharp swords with lightning thrust, Ringing on helmet, armor, shield, Pierced, clove, until they turned and fled, And left them masters of the field Piled with a hundred thousand dead! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ABRAHAM LINCOLN (1) by RICHARD HENRY STODDARD SONGS by RICHARD HENRY STODDARD THE FLIGHT OF YOUTH by RICHARD HENRY STODDARD A CATCH by RICHARD HENRY STODDARD A GAZELLE by RICHARD HENRY STODDARD ABRAHAM LINCOLN (2) by RICHARD HENRY STODDARD ADSUM by RICHARD HENRY STODDARD AN OLD SONG REVERSED by RICHARD HENRY STODDARD ARAB SONG by RICHARD HENRY STODDARD BIRDS by RICHARD HENRY STODDARD |
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