The Alexandria Herald

When I awoke,
Before the dawn, amid their sleep, I heard
My sons (for they were with me) weep and ask
For bread. Right cruel art thou, if no pang
Thou feel at thinking what my heart foretold;
And if not now, why use thy tears to flow?
Now had they waken'd: and the hour drew near
When they were wont to bring us food; the mind
Of each misgave him, through his dream, and I
Heard, at its outlet underneath, lock'd up
Th' terrible tower; whence, uttering not a word,
I look'd upon the visage of my sons.
I wept not so: all stone I felt within.
They wept; and one, my little Anselm, cried
"Thou lookest so! Father, what ails thee!" Yet
I shed no tear, nor answer'd all that day
Nor the next night, until another sun
Came out upon the world. When a slant beam
Had on our doleful prison made its way,
And in four countenances I descried
The image of my own, on either hand
Through agony I bit, and they who thought
I did it through desire of feeding, rose
O' th' sudden, and cried, "Father, we should grieve
Far less if thou wou'dst eat of us: thou gav'st
These weeds of miserable flesh we wear
And do thou strip them off from us again."
Then, not to make them sadder, I kept down
My spirit in stillness. That day and the next
We all were silent. Ah, obdurate earth!
Why open'dst not upon us? When we came
To the fourth day, then Gaddo at my feet
Outstretch'd did fling him, crying, "Hast no help
For me, my Father?" There he died, and e'en
Plainly as thou seest me, saw I the three
Fall one by one 'twixt fifth day and sixth;
Whence I betook me, now grown blind, to grope
Over them all, and for three days aloud
Call'd on them who were dead. Then fasting got
The mastery of grief.