A trumpet from the walls Proclaimed the day's festivities begun. Preceded by musicians and sweet singers, A long procession passed the city-gate, And, traversing the winding maze of streets, Climbed to the Capitol. Choice victims, dressed With pictured ornaments and wreaths of flowers, An offering to the tutelary gods, Led the advance. Then followed spoils immense, Baskets of jewels, vases of wrought gold, Paintings and statuary, cloths and wares, Of costliest manufacture, close succeeded By the rich symbols of Palmyra's glory, Torn from her temples and her palaces, To grace a triumph in the streets of Rome. With toilsome step next walked the captive queen; And then the victor, in his car of state, With milk-white horses of Thessalian breed, And in his retinue a splendid train Of Rome's nobility. In one long line The army last appeared in bright array, With banners high displayed, filling the air With songs of victory. The pageant proud Quickened remembrance of departed days, And warmed the bosoms of the multitude With deep devotion to the commonwealth. High in his gilded chariot, decked in robes Of broidered purple, and with laurel crowned, Rode the triumphant conqueror, in his hand The emblems of his power. The capital Of his wide empire was inflamed with zeal To do him honor and exalt his praise. The world was at his feet; his sovereign will None dared to question, and his haughty word Was law to nations. Yet his heart was troubled. In the dim distance he discerned the flight Of Freedom, on swift pinions heralding Enfranchisement to the oppressed of earth. He knew the feeble tenure of dominion Based on allegiance with reluctance paid; And read the future overthrow of Rome In the unyielding spirit of his victim. Uncovered in the sun, weary and faint, Bowed to the earth with chains of ravished gold, With feet unsandaled, walked Zenobia, Slave to the craven tyrant's cruelty. Neither her peerless beauty, nor her sex, Nor yet her grievous sufferings could melt The despot's stony heart. She, who surpassed Her conqueror in all the qualities Of head or heart which crown humanity With nobleness and high preëminence-- She, whose _misfortunes_ in a glorious cause, And not her _errors_, had achieved her ruin-- Burdened with ignominy and disgrace For her resplendent _virtues_, not her _crimes_-- She who had graced a palace, and dispensed Pardon to penitence, reward to worth, And tempered justice with benevolence-- Wickedly torn from her exalted station, Now walked a captive in the streets of Rome, E'en at the feet of the oppressors steeds. Yet was her spirit all untamed. Disdain Still sat upon her countenance, and breathed Unmeasured scorn upon her persecutors.