The sun sets brightly—but a ruddier glow
O’er Afric’s heaven the flames of Carthage throw.
Her walls have sunk, and pyramids of fire
In lurid splendour from her domes aspire;
Sway’d by the wind, they wave—while glares the sky
As when the desert’s red simoom is nigh;
The sculptured altar and the pillar’d hall
Shine out in dreadful brightness ere they fall;
Far o’er the seas the light of ruin streams—
Rock, wave, and isle are crimson’d by its beams;