Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 4 October 1848. Various

      The East was in revolt. The myriad seeds

      Of dark rebellion, sown by tyranny,

      And watered by the blood of patriots slain,

      Were springing into life on every hand.

      Success was alternating in this strife

      'Twixt power and right, and anxious Victory,

      With balance poised, the doubtful issue feared.

      Amid the fierce contention, 'mid the din

      Of war's sublime encounter, and the crash

      Of falling systems old, Palmyra's queen

      Followed her valiant lord, Palmyra's king.

      Ever beside him in the hour of peril,

      She warded from his breast the battle's rage;

      And in the councils of the cabinet

      Her prudent wisdom was her husband's guide.

      Domestic treason, with insidious stab,

      Snatched from Zenobia's side her gallant lord,

      And threw into her hand the exigencies

      Of an unstable and capricious throne.

      Yet was her genius not inadequate.

      The precepts of experience, intertwined

      With intellectual power of lofty grade,

      Combined to raise Palmyra's beauteous queen

      High in the golden scale of moral greatness.

      Under the teachings of the good Longinus

      The streams of science flowed into her mind;

      And, like the fountain-fostered mountain lake,

      Her soul was pure as its ethereal food.

      The patronage bestowed on learned men

      Declared her love for letters. The rewards,

      Rich and unnumbered, she conferred on merit

      Her own refined, exalted taste betrayed.

      Her graceful and majestic figure, crowned

      With beauty such as few but angels wear,

      Like the rich casing that surrounds the gem,

      Heightened the splendor of her brilliant genius.

      Equally daring on the battle-field

      And in the chase, her prudence and her courage,

      Displayed in many a hot emergency,

      Had twined victorious laurel round her brow.

      Under her rule Palmyra's fortunes rose

      To an unequalled altitude, and wealth

      Flowed in upon her like a golden sea,

      Her wide dominion, stretching from the Nile

      To the far Euxine and Euphrates' flood —

      Her active commerce, whose expanded range

      Monopolized the trade of all the East —

      Her stately capital, whose towers and domes

      Vied with proud Rome in architectural grace —

      Her own aspiring aims and high renown —

      All breathed around the Asiatic queen

      An atmosphere of greatness, and betrayed

      Her bold ambition, and her rivalry

      With the imperial mistress of the world.

      But 't is the gaudiest flower is soonest plucked;

      The sturdiest oak first feels the builder's axe.

      Palmyra's rising greatness had awaked

      The jealousy of Rome, and Fortune looked

      On her prosperity with envious eye.

      Under the golden eagles of the empire,

      Aurelian's soldiers swept the thirsty sands,

      And poured into Palmyra's palmy plains,

      A mighty host hot for the battle-field.

      Borne on her gallant steed, the warrior queen

      The conflict sought, and led her eager troops

      Into the stern encounter. Like the storm

      Of their own desert plain, innumerable,

      They rushed upon the foe, and courted danger.

      Amid the serried ranks, whose steel array

      Glowed in the noonday sun, and threw a flood

      Of wavy sheen into the fragrant air,

      Zenobia rode; and, like an angry spirit,

      Commissioned from above to chastise men,

      Where'er she moved was death. There was a flash

      Of scorn that lighted up her fiery eye,

      A glance of wrath upon her countenance —

      There was a terror in her frenzied arm

      That struck dismay into the boldest heart.

      Alas for her, Fortune was unpropitious!

      Her fearless valor found an overmatch

      In the experienced prudence of Aurelian;

      And scarcely could the desert's hardy sons

      Cope with the practiced legions of the empire.

      The battle gained, Palmyra taken, sacked —

      Its queen a captive, hurled from off a throne,

      Stripped of her wide possessions, forced to sue

      In humblest attitude for even life —

      The haughty victor led his weary legions

      Back to Italia's shores, and in his train

      His fallen rival, loaded with chains of gold,

      Forged from the bullion of her treasury.

      'Twas holyday in Rome. The morning sun,

      Emerging from the palace-crested hills

      Of the Campagna, poured a flood of light

      Upon the slumbering city, summoning

      Its teeming thousands to the festival.

      A playful breeze, rich-laden with perfume

      From groves of orange, gently stirred the leaves,

      And curled the ripples on the Tiber's breast,

      Bearing to seaward o'er the flowery plain

      The rising peans' joyful melodies.

      Flung to the wind, high from the swelling dome

      That