2. Lament for Aquilea destroyed, and never to be built again
To weep thine ashes am I come,
And have no tears.
All words are withered and the heart is numb
With too much grief.
Time was when thou hadst all,
Beauty and wealth and state,
Gallant thy wall,
Gallant the citizens that made thee great.
Came godless Attila,
Fierce, cruel, merciless,
Swept round thee his great wheel,
Five hundred thousand men.
He saw the storks that nested in thy towers
Come flying through the fields, carrying their young.
He knew it for a sign: he knew
Thine hour was come.
Dead lie the priests of God;
No man to give their bodies burial.
Hands bound behind their backs, the living go
Captive to slavery.
City of nobles, now the poor men crouch
In cellars underground.
City of palaces, thy best shelter now
A shepherd’s hut.
O Christ our King, the judge no man gainsays,
Look down in pity, turn away thy wrath.
Forbid a fate the like of this to fall
Again upon thy folk.
Chasten us, Father, but be merciful.
Go thou before thy folk, and come behind:
Thy folk that walk upon the harmless road
Keep to eternity.
Paulinus of Aquilea (762 - 802)
translated by Helen Waddell
(with permission from Miss Mollie Martin and Stanbrook Abbey)
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