The Seer of Carthage

[Flos Campi]

Hello! I wish that I knew more about Carthage so I could garner a deeper appreciation for this poem, but unfortunately I have very little knowledge about that topic. Nevertheless, it's a beautiful poem! My overarching note is that I don't quite understand the meter in this poem. Most lines are iambic pentameter or a close approximation of it, but then some lines are only one or two feet too long/short and some feet deviate from the iambs. I found that this made some lines difficult to read. 

The city in full festive spirit bustles
Its foreign tongues express exotic speech
and men are clothed in strange outlandish dress
where goods and money change tight clutching hands I like how this opening stanza establishes a festive setting that contrasts so glaringly with what is to come. However, I think that the poem could use a little bit more of this exposition, maybe even an entire stanza more for this. What do the festivities smell, taste, and feel like? (Sight and sound are included above, but in order to create a whole sensual understanding, I think these might be necessary.)

Yet I am lying down with face looking up As the rest of this stanza is in iambic pentameter, maybe consider "turned" instead of "looking"? Otherwise consider varying the meter more so that it doesn't feel like iambic pentameter with a few exceptions and rather like a poem with a mix of meters. 
I hear a whisper, faintly in my head
declaring: Carthage will fall from its height
to crushed waste where vultures eat the dead "Eat" seems like a somewhat weak word here. If you're trying to vary the meter "consume", "desecrate". Otherwise "take" or "where vultures mourn no dead" might be a more interesting, less literal way of phrasing this

No more will people walk the city streets
the Marketplace devoid of all its stock
no chatter heard or clunking wooden carts
no children play or go around about

An eerie sound of silence will reside
with only whispers heard of men deceased.
I scream and bellow curses to the gods
for bringing wrath upon this city now

My lungs inside me burn, my head is numb
from top to toe, I shake ceaselessly
my fragile frame now crippled by a dread
that some inferno will consume my soul

I long that gods would come and smite me down "the gods" instead of "that gods"? Also, I think "I long for gods to come..." might be appropriate because "would" introduces a new and unnecessary verb tense to the poem. This makes this line feel like it almost doesn't belong. 
by slicing wide this punic heart of mine
that I may stoop and sleep with fallen men
before eyes are casted upon this city’s fall

My noisy cries and shouts go heavenward
then twenty eyes now peel before my shape
their faces morph into the gods of Baal
ready to bring their judgement over me "ready" doesn't really seem to match the diction in this stanza. Consider a more violent, grotesque way of phrasing this, e.g. "in lust to bring..." or "lusting to bring..."

I’m lying down in mud condemned by them
yet as the sun’s rays gleam down from above
I long redemption’s wings would lift me up
And Carthage would be spared its ruined fate some more occurrences of "would" that you may want to consider changing

Yet Death is now beside me where he waits perhaps capitalize "He" to keep stay consistent
with his sickle now hanging over me and possibly capitalize "Sickle" as well 
foretasting poisoned fruit from hand decayed
I am ensnared in his demonic trance as well as this "His"

I ask for one to end my suffering
to smother me now with a pillow case Although I think this is an intentional break from the ancient imagery and tone, the "pillow case" threw me off on the first read-through. You may wish to consider revising. (However, the more I reread this poem the more I like this line, so perhaps not!)
or squeeze my throat with hands together clenched
but no one there responds to my request

Then by the powerful hands of the gods
I break out of my hellish trance and sing
for death my source of fear has drifted away
like shadows of a passing cloud above

I now turn heavenward and thank the gods
for sparing me and the great capital
which although may decline in glory yet
I pray it shall see better days ahead What an interesting last 2 lines! Gloomy foreshadowing followed by a hopeful sentiment — wonderful way to end this poem of conflicting tones!