Spartacus, an unlikely Savior
A slave is tending to crops in a field.
Since his birth servitude has been his yoke.
So not to get beat he hopes for good yield.
Thought of Rome’s downfall is just a bad joke.
A man than says “you hear of Spartacus.
A rumor has it he is just a slave.
He fights the empire for those like us.”
But to Rome a black eye was all he gave.
Valiant Variathus
In another time stands one born to serve.
His back bears record of when he gets beat.
He wants the harsh master dead but lacks nerve.
He prays hourly for Rome’s quick defeat.
Hears him of a soldier shepard in Spain.
Finds out that Viriathus is his name.
He is a shepard causing Rome great pain.
Seasons come and go, things are the same.
In months news finally does arrive.
But it is not the kind of news they need.
Our fair Spaniard is no longer alive.
His colleagues were corrupted with much greed.
Hope For Hannibal
On a hill stands men from a conquered land.
They see some soldiers coming up the roads.
They wipe the sweat from their brow with chained hand.
Their back aches from carrying heavy loads.
“Is there news of the second Punic war?”
A soldier said, “many curse leaving home,
No man cursed louder than Hannibal swore.
But what he cursed was having to leave Rome.
Advancing Of Attila
Of Enemies that are Asian comes one.
He claims that he wields the great sword of Mars.
He is Attila, Ruler of the Hun.
The land which he takes he forever scars.
Faced he a general raised by his own.
Fever made their strength weak, and their skin paled.
He reaped the seeds of blood that he had sown.
Against the great Roman General he failed.
Last Wish Granted
Now an old man is at the end of his life.
An African carries him from the field.
He leaves behind no possessions or wife.
He tended crops and cleaned armor and shield.
He wanted to see Rome Dealt a deadly blow.
Of warriors passing, out rides this one man.
The slave says “Hi soldier, on I must go.
Wanted Caesar beat but what army can?
There is one thing that I wanted to see.
We wished for one to topple this power.
Fate has spoken and it is not to be.
You have come here at my final hour.”
He Replies “I am privileged to be here.”
Smiling hurts but he does with a loud cough.
“We rest, you are not alone with death near.”
“Who are you…?” He says “Alaric the Goth”
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