The Hermit'S Sacrifice. 67

Fainter grew the yells of tigers, And the lions' dreadful roar.

On the crimson-stained arena Lay the victims of the fight; Eyes which once had glared with anguish, Lost in death their baleful light.

Then uprose the gladiators Armed for conflict unto death, Waiting for the prefect's signal, Cold and stern with bated breath.

"Ave Caesar, morituri, Te, salutant," rose the cry From the lips of men ill-fated, Doomed to suffer and to die.

Then began the dreadful contest, Lives like chaff were thrown away, Rome with all her pride and power Butchered for a holiday.

Eagerly the crowd were waiting, Loud the clashing sabres rang; When between the gladiators All unarmed a hermit sprang.

68 THE HERMIT'S SACRIFICE.

"Cease your bloodshed," cried the hermit, "On this carnage place your ban;" But with flashing swords they answered, "Back unto your place, old man."

From their path the gladiators Thrust the strange intruder back, Who between their hosts advancing Calmly parried their attack.

All undaunted by their weapons, Stood the old heroic man; While a maddened cry of anger Through the vast assembly ran.

"Down with him," cried out the people, As with thumbs unbent they glared, Till the prefect gave the signal That his life should not be spared.

Men grew wild with wrathful passion, When his fearless words were said Cruelly they fiercely showered Stones on his devoted head.

Bruised and bleeding fell the hermit, Victor in that hour of strife;