The Grave in the Busento

By Coseuza, songs of wail at midnight wake Busento's
shore,
O'er the wave resounds the answer, and amid the vortex'
roar!

Valiant Goths, like spectres, steal along the banks with
burned pace,
Weeping over Alaric dead, the best, the bravest of his
race.

Ah! too soon, from home so far, was it their lot to
dig his grave,
While still o'er his shoulders flowed his youthful ringlets'
flaxen wave.

On the shore of the Busento ranged, they with each
other vied,
As they dug another bed to turn the torrent's course
aside.

In the waveless hollow turning o'er and o'er the sod,
the corse
Deep into the earth they sank, in armor clad, upon his
horse.

Covered then with earth again the horse and rider iii
the grave,
That above the hero's tomb the torrent's lofty plants
might wave.

And, a second time diverted, was the flood conducted
back,
Foaming rushed Busento's billows onwards in their
wonted track.

And a warrior chorus sang, "Sleep with thy honors,
hero brave!
"Ne'er shall foot of lucre-lusting Roman desecrate thy
grave!"

Par and wide the songs of praise resounded in the
Gothic host;
Bear them on, Busento's billow, bear them on from
coast to coast!