Before this pyre we stand my son,
Within this hallowed shrine.
Gods, let the flames be seen throughout
Hispania one last time.
My son, my time is almost up,
My strength in battle gone.
I charge you, ne’er put down thy sword
Until my day is won.
I was a mighty general once,
Yea, second in command
Of all the troops in Africa
By Hanno’s side I’d stand.
O Empire! Conquest! Victory!
Thou art my only dream.
Yet ever slipping through my grasp
Be your fate it would seem.
Once I was called to war with Rome
And I was proud to go.
So I made sail for Sicily
To battle with my foe.
But I was given too few men
And not enough supply.
So though I fought without defeat,
The Romans did not fly.
What’s more, my men sought only gold
My lines, by sellswords filled.
And I, so desperate, promised pay
Upon our quest fulfilled.
A fleet of ships! Two hundred strong!
They flew the flag of Rome.
The cothon burned as Carthage fell.
In shame, I turned to home.
The Senate did not see it fit
To pay my men their due.
Upon us Rome had forced a debt.
There was naught I could do.
Revolt! The soldiers took up arms,
A vengeful, raging sea.
A general called to restore calm,
And who was called but me?
The rest of my career I reaped
The blood of comrades past.
And while foul Rome sat bathed in weath,
My homeland watched aghast.
I am disgraced! My life a waste!
Gods, how could this occur?
The noble House of Barca spurned!
In spite, we must endure.
We came here to Hispania, son,
To capture silver mines.
For Carthage is in need of wealth.
War will return, in time.
O Hannibal, my son, my pride,
My honor falls to thee.
Take up the reigns of armies strong!
Claim victory for me.
Now prick thy palm, hold out thy hand,
And swear by troth and home:
Be strong and brave, but if naught else,
Ne’er be a friend to Rome.