I havegrown weary of voices,And I long for silence and rest,And the peacefulness of night-time,When no care doth my soul infest.And I’ve grown weary of facesThat have never a thought for me;Of eyes all cold and repellentI would be forever made free.And I’ve grown weary of thinkingThe thoughts that my being possess;The finite and the infiniteForever my bosom oppress.I’m very weary of hoping,And e’er waiting from day to dayA happy and bright consummation,An illusion still far away.I’m weary of vacant places:The dear hands that clasp mine no moreHave drifted o’er the dark river,And gained the eternal shore.Ah! how I miss the dear facesOf old friends long years since made free;But only their vacant placesForever are calling to me.And so I’m saddened and lonely,And trying to trust and to wait,Dreaming and longing for rest time—’Tis the passion and burden of fate.
I havegrown weary of voices,And I long for silence and rest,And the peacefulness of night-time,When no care doth my soul infest.And I’ve grown weary of facesThat have never a thought for me;Of eyes all cold and repellentI would be forever made free.And I’ve grown weary of thinkingThe thoughts that my being possess;The finite and the infiniteForever my bosom oppress.I’m very weary of hoping,And e’er waiting from day to dayA happy and bright consummation,An illusion still far away.I’m weary of vacant places:The dear hands that clasp mine no moreHave drifted o’er the dark river,And gained the eternal shore.Ah! how I miss the dear facesOf old friends long years since made free;But only their vacant placesForever are calling to me.And so I’m saddened and lonely,And trying to trust and to wait,Dreaming and longing for rest time—’Tis the passion and burden of fate.
I havegrown weary of voices,And I long for silence and rest,And the peacefulness of night-time,When no care doth my soul infest.
And I’ve grown weary of facesThat have never a thought for me;Of eyes all cold and repellentI would be forever made free.
And I’ve grown weary of thinkingThe thoughts that my being possess;The finite and the infiniteForever my bosom oppress.
I’m very weary of hoping,And e’er waiting from day to dayA happy and bright consummation,An illusion still far away.
I’m weary of vacant places:The dear hands that clasp mine no moreHave drifted o’er the dark river,And gained the eternal shore.
Ah! how I miss the dear facesOf old friends long years since made free;But only their vacant placesForever are calling to me.
And so I’m saddened and lonely,And trying to trust and to wait,Dreaming and longing for rest time—’Tis the passion and burden of fate.
I havesung my last song, and am readyTo go at the dying of day;Ere the gloom of night comes to sadden,My feet shall have passed away.No more when you meet at the twilightShall I mingle my voice with the strainsThat tell of home, of love, and heaven,And the past with its pleasures and pains.And when again you are carollingThe old songs I love so well,Will you steal a thought for the absent,For the one who is saying farewell?Or must I then, too, be forgottenWhen my voice shall be nevermore heard?Will regret ne’er trouble thy bosom,Nor memory ever be stirred?Sing on, happy hearts, in the gloaming;Sing of home, and of heaven, and love;Heed not the feet that have wanderedFar away, like the voice of a dove.An echo I hear sweetly tender,That seems ever to whisper to meOf a meeting of friends long severed,In a life made all perfect and free.
I havesung my last song, and am readyTo go at the dying of day;Ere the gloom of night comes to sadden,My feet shall have passed away.No more when you meet at the twilightShall I mingle my voice with the strainsThat tell of home, of love, and heaven,And the past with its pleasures and pains.And when again you are carollingThe old songs I love so well,Will you steal a thought for the absent,For the one who is saying farewell?Or must I then, too, be forgottenWhen my voice shall be nevermore heard?Will regret ne’er trouble thy bosom,Nor memory ever be stirred?Sing on, happy hearts, in the gloaming;Sing of home, and of heaven, and love;Heed not the feet that have wanderedFar away, like the voice of a dove.An echo I hear sweetly tender,That seems ever to whisper to meOf a meeting of friends long severed,In a life made all perfect and free.
I havesung my last song, and am readyTo go at the dying of day;Ere the gloom of night comes to sadden,My feet shall have passed away.No more when you meet at the twilightShall I mingle my voice with the strainsThat tell of home, of love, and heaven,And the past with its pleasures and pains.
And when again you are carollingThe old songs I love so well,Will you steal a thought for the absent,For the one who is saying farewell?Or must I then, too, be forgottenWhen my voice shall be nevermore heard?Will regret ne’er trouble thy bosom,Nor memory ever be stirred?
Sing on, happy hearts, in the gloaming;Sing of home, and of heaven, and love;Heed not the feet that have wanderedFar away, like the voice of a dove.An echo I hear sweetly tender,That seems ever to whisper to meOf a meeting of friends long severed,In a life made all perfect and free.
I’mwalking to-day with mem’ryThrough the woodlands weird and still,With ghostly shadows around me,Haunting, and strange, and chill.Ominous clouds are gatheringO’er a ghastly, threatening sky;The voice of the wind is grievingIn the treetops bare and high.And the streams are stilled and sleeping,And under my onward treadThe fallen leaves are rustling;And from the pale, silent deadCome stealing back phantom footstepsBy many a ruined bower;And tender, mystical murmurings,From many a pale dead flower;And a subtle song of summer,Of beautiful seasons fled,Of faces, voices, and ruined hopes,Sweet dreams, and the tears we shed;And sweet as the angels’ singing,Or the summer’s soft twilight,Or love asleep in fragrant bloom,Or the peaceful, dreamland night;And a love that waked to never die,A radiant and fadeless bloomThat waning years cannot efface,An endless and golden noon.I revel at will with mem’ryBy streams and rippling rills;My heart is wrapt in ecstasy,As I climb its shining hills.But list to the dirge of the windThrough the ever deep’ning gloom;See! ’tis falling, the death-white snow,Awak’ning my soul too soon.It whitens the lonely moorlands,And the forest glade and glen,The dreamy hills and silent valesWhere the summer late hath been.And see how it swirls and eddies,Searching fiercely everywhere;It clasps in an icy embrace,Flurrying fast through the air.’Tis so desolate and dreary,And thought grows heavy with pain,For it may be that never for meWill the summer come again.
I’mwalking to-day with mem’ryThrough the woodlands weird and still,With ghostly shadows around me,Haunting, and strange, and chill.Ominous clouds are gatheringO’er a ghastly, threatening sky;The voice of the wind is grievingIn the treetops bare and high.And the streams are stilled and sleeping,And under my onward treadThe fallen leaves are rustling;And from the pale, silent deadCome stealing back phantom footstepsBy many a ruined bower;And tender, mystical murmurings,From many a pale dead flower;And a subtle song of summer,Of beautiful seasons fled,Of faces, voices, and ruined hopes,Sweet dreams, and the tears we shed;And sweet as the angels’ singing,Or the summer’s soft twilight,Or love asleep in fragrant bloom,Or the peaceful, dreamland night;And a love that waked to never die,A radiant and fadeless bloomThat waning years cannot efface,An endless and golden noon.I revel at will with mem’ryBy streams and rippling rills;My heart is wrapt in ecstasy,As I climb its shining hills.But list to the dirge of the windThrough the ever deep’ning gloom;See! ’tis falling, the death-white snow,Awak’ning my soul too soon.It whitens the lonely moorlands,And the forest glade and glen,The dreamy hills and silent valesWhere the summer late hath been.And see how it swirls and eddies,Searching fiercely everywhere;It clasps in an icy embrace,Flurrying fast through the air.’Tis so desolate and dreary,And thought grows heavy with pain,For it may be that never for meWill the summer come again.
I’mwalking to-day with mem’ryThrough the woodlands weird and still,With ghostly shadows around me,Haunting, and strange, and chill.Ominous clouds are gatheringO’er a ghastly, threatening sky;The voice of the wind is grievingIn the treetops bare and high.
And the streams are stilled and sleeping,And under my onward treadThe fallen leaves are rustling;And from the pale, silent deadCome stealing back phantom footstepsBy many a ruined bower;And tender, mystical murmurings,From many a pale dead flower;
And a subtle song of summer,Of beautiful seasons fled,Of faces, voices, and ruined hopes,Sweet dreams, and the tears we shed;And sweet as the angels’ singing,Or the summer’s soft twilight,Or love asleep in fragrant bloom,Or the peaceful, dreamland night;
And a love that waked to never die,A radiant and fadeless bloomThat waning years cannot efface,An endless and golden noon.I revel at will with mem’ryBy streams and rippling rills;My heart is wrapt in ecstasy,As I climb its shining hills.
But list to the dirge of the windThrough the ever deep’ning gloom;See! ’tis falling, the death-white snow,Awak’ning my soul too soon.It whitens the lonely moorlands,And the forest glade and glen,The dreamy hills and silent valesWhere the summer late hath been.
And see how it swirls and eddies,Searching fiercely everywhere;It clasps in an icy embrace,Flurrying fast through the air.’Tis so desolate and dreary,And thought grows heavy with pain,For it may be that never for meWill the summer come again.
Atlast, when the sun is setting,And the beautiful golden barsReach upward through purple splendor,And mingle their light with the stars;The winds are hushed to a whisper,Caressing the leaves and flowers;And song of birds are ripplingSweetly in twilight bowers;I ponder o’er past and present,And rest from the care and strife—At peace with all, and storing strengthFor the daily battle of life.
Atlast, when the sun is setting,And the beautiful golden barsReach upward through purple splendor,And mingle their light with the stars;The winds are hushed to a whisper,Caressing the leaves and flowers;And song of birds are ripplingSweetly in twilight bowers;I ponder o’er past and present,And rest from the care and strife—At peace with all, and storing strengthFor the daily battle of life.
Atlast, when the sun is setting,And the beautiful golden barsReach upward through purple splendor,And mingle their light with the stars;The winds are hushed to a whisper,Caressing the leaves and flowers;And song of birds are ripplingSweetly in twilight bowers;I ponder o’er past and present,And rest from the care and strife—At peace with all, and storing strengthFor the daily battle of life.
I knownot if ’twas in a vision, or a spirit dream.’Twas at the noon of day, when fairest summer time sereneClothed all the world in loveliness; when dazzling lightStreamed o’er the Himalayas, and the grandeur of the sightLay all before me, as I stood on that far peerless height,And saw through spirit eyes the whole world at my feet.Magnificently grand was that far panoramic view,And I was lost in wonderment as swift-winged vision flewFrom sea to sea, lake, river, stream, and tiny rippling rill,Far mountains tow’ring to the skies, and rolling plain and hill,And a thousand verdured swells that like billows roll awayBeyond the horizon’s mystic rim and the far gates of day.From tropic seas I pierced the veil where Arctic oceans roll,By a thousand isles that gem the deep and flit from pole to pole,And swift return by milder climes of rich perpetual bloom,No more to look on that wild waste of mystery and gloom.I saw the cattle on a thousand sloping emerald hills,Heard the dream-songs of shepherds that through the distance thrillsThe list’ning ear; and saw millions of tillers of the soil—The support of kings, nations—earth’s suffering sons of toil,A thousand cities glistened in the near and far away;All domed and minaretted, by a thousand streams they lay.I heard the din of commerce and the rush of countless feet,And the cry of untold voices, and babel reigned complete;And pomp and power were trampling the poor and weak ones down,And kings looked on from palace halls with ne’er rebuke nor frown.I saw giant nations flaunting diverse banners to the breeze,All bristling o’er with armament, and frail thrones at their knees;Lust of power was rampant, jars and threat’nings everywhere,Deep mutterings of the rising storm fell across the air.The seas were white with commerce, with the ships that o’er them sweep,Watched by the navies of the world, vast guardians of the deep;I heard the cry of Christian, and of ruthless Moslem bandsFlaunting their crescent banner with cruel bloodstained hands.One flag I marked on every sea, in every clime and zone—The meteor flag of Britain, proudly, defiantly outthrown.It seemed to tower over all, bidding tyrants to beware,Of the nation’s rights its bright folds guard to have a proper care.There were mutterings and combinations adverse to Britain’s fame,And from the horizon’s darkening rim burst shafts of ruddy flame.But a couchant lion rose and shook his majestic, tawny mane,And roared with a roar that shook the seas and braced his giant frame;And the Empress of the Ocean stood on her seagirt shoresIn the panoply of war, where her royal banner soars.Serene and noble there she stood, in majesty and pride,And beckoned, and millions of men uprose, and far and wideHer dauntless ships moved out, and covered all the sea,To guard the nation’s sacred cause and Christian liberty.The German nation heard the call that echoed o’er the deep,And her mighty heart was thrilled, and with one generous sweepHurled all differences to the four quarters of the wind,And swiftly ranged by Britain’s side, as one in heart and mind.And Italia’s answering cry rose up, regenerated, free,As she joined the alliance with a shout for Christian unity.The Austrian nation was moved as by a mighty throe,And prepared to strike by Britain’s side the now advancing foeOf Russ, and Gaul, and Moslem hordes converging for the fightThat is to shake the astonished world in horror and affright.Converging to the gates of India in columns vast they comeTo the martial blare of trumpets and roll of fife and drum,The half a million horse—the van—in wild clangor clears the wayFor three thousand frowning guns in formidable array,With vast masses of infantry—six millions of the foe,To deliver a vast attack, an irresistible blow;To sweep Albion from the Ind, and the German power to break;To win the Orient, even the world to dominateFor the passes of the Himalayas on and on they sweep,Making the very earth to vibrate beneath their marching feet.But hark! on the expectant and sharply startled earBursts a fiercer blare of trumpets and a still more rousing cheer.I turned my vision southward. Oh, welcome, glorious sight!Five million men advancing in the glowing golden lightOf the sun of Ind, that fell athwart the grand arrayOf Albion and her illustrious allies. And far awayI saw another army moving swiftly to the right(As if detached from Albion’s hosts), and disappear from sightIn the foothills of the Himalayas—some deep strategy evolvedBy Wolseley and Roberts, who war’s problems oft have solved.Too late, the rushing foe the barring mountain passes gain,And swift debouch in mighty mass and unfold along the plain.An awful front is formed, reaching leagues and leagues away,Deployed in seven battle lines in stupendous grim array,With three thousand guns at intervals frowning there betweenVast corps of horse and infantry, such as the world hath ne’er seen.Intermingled were strange devices to hurl storms of shot and shell,Hot and furious as the deadly, insatiate maw of hell.Bicycle corps with protecting shields flashed everywhere;And balloons, like eagles, poised on high, borne along the air;Swooping like eagles for their prey, searching the far and nigh,They fearless rise above the clouds and soar along the sky.Swiftly telegraph lines reach every part of the vast line,Entrenched by corps of engineers skilful of design.And central, in rear of that stupendous and waiting host,The White Czar of all the Russias with his staff takes post.With the Russians forming the centre, gigantic, deep, and wide,And the corps of France the right wing, a mass of fiery pride;And the Sultan’s hordes of Moslems form the left, and there awaitThe awful pending struggle, the doom of a boding fate!And thus they wait the adversary, Gog and Magog.
I knownot if ’twas in a vision, or a spirit dream.’Twas at the noon of day, when fairest summer time sereneClothed all the world in loveliness; when dazzling lightStreamed o’er the Himalayas, and the grandeur of the sightLay all before me, as I stood on that far peerless height,And saw through spirit eyes the whole world at my feet.Magnificently grand was that far panoramic view,And I was lost in wonderment as swift-winged vision flewFrom sea to sea, lake, river, stream, and tiny rippling rill,Far mountains tow’ring to the skies, and rolling plain and hill,And a thousand verdured swells that like billows roll awayBeyond the horizon’s mystic rim and the far gates of day.From tropic seas I pierced the veil where Arctic oceans roll,By a thousand isles that gem the deep and flit from pole to pole,And swift return by milder climes of rich perpetual bloom,No more to look on that wild waste of mystery and gloom.I saw the cattle on a thousand sloping emerald hills,Heard the dream-songs of shepherds that through the distance thrillsThe list’ning ear; and saw millions of tillers of the soil—The support of kings, nations—earth’s suffering sons of toil,A thousand cities glistened in the near and far away;All domed and minaretted, by a thousand streams they lay.I heard the din of commerce and the rush of countless feet,And the cry of untold voices, and babel reigned complete;And pomp and power were trampling the poor and weak ones down,And kings looked on from palace halls with ne’er rebuke nor frown.I saw giant nations flaunting diverse banners to the breeze,All bristling o’er with armament, and frail thrones at their knees;Lust of power was rampant, jars and threat’nings everywhere,Deep mutterings of the rising storm fell across the air.The seas were white with commerce, with the ships that o’er them sweep,Watched by the navies of the world, vast guardians of the deep;I heard the cry of Christian, and of ruthless Moslem bandsFlaunting their crescent banner with cruel bloodstained hands.One flag I marked on every sea, in every clime and zone—The meteor flag of Britain, proudly, defiantly outthrown.It seemed to tower over all, bidding tyrants to beware,Of the nation’s rights its bright folds guard to have a proper care.There were mutterings and combinations adverse to Britain’s fame,And from the horizon’s darkening rim burst shafts of ruddy flame.But a couchant lion rose and shook his majestic, tawny mane,And roared with a roar that shook the seas and braced his giant frame;And the Empress of the Ocean stood on her seagirt shoresIn the panoply of war, where her royal banner soars.Serene and noble there she stood, in majesty and pride,And beckoned, and millions of men uprose, and far and wideHer dauntless ships moved out, and covered all the sea,To guard the nation’s sacred cause and Christian liberty.The German nation heard the call that echoed o’er the deep,And her mighty heart was thrilled, and with one generous sweepHurled all differences to the four quarters of the wind,And swiftly ranged by Britain’s side, as one in heart and mind.And Italia’s answering cry rose up, regenerated, free,As she joined the alliance with a shout for Christian unity.The Austrian nation was moved as by a mighty throe,And prepared to strike by Britain’s side the now advancing foeOf Russ, and Gaul, and Moslem hordes converging for the fightThat is to shake the astonished world in horror and affright.Converging to the gates of India in columns vast they comeTo the martial blare of trumpets and roll of fife and drum,The half a million horse—the van—in wild clangor clears the wayFor three thousand frowning guns in formidable array,With vast masses of infantry—six millions of the foe,To deliver a vast attack, an irresistible blow;To sweep Albion from the Ind, and the German power to break;To win the Orient, even the world to dominateFor the passes of the Himalayas on and on they sweep,Making the very earth to vibrate beneath their marching feet.But hark! on the expectant and sharply startled earBursts a fiercer blare of trumpets and a still more rousing cheer.I turned my vision southward. Oh, welcome, glorious sight!Five million men advancing in the glowing golden lightOf the sun of Ind, that fell athwart the grand arrayOf Albion and her illustrious allies. And far awayI saw another army moving swiftly to the right(As if detached from Albion’s hosts), and disappear from sightIn the foothills of the Himalayas—some deep strategy evolvedBy Wolseley and Roberts, who war’s problems oft have solved.Too late, the rushing foe the barring mountain passes gain,And swift debouch in mighty mass and unfold along the plain.An awful front is formed, reaching leagues and leagues away,Deployed in seven battle lines in stupendous grim array,With three thousand guns at intervals frowning there betweenVast corps of horse and infantry, such as the world hath ne’er seen.Intermingled were strange devices to hurl storms of shot and shell,Hot and furious as the deadly, insatiate maw of hell.Bicycle corps with protecting shields flashed everywhere;And balloons, like eagles, poised on high, borne along the air;Swooping like eagles for their prey, searching the far and nigh,They fearless rise above the clouds and soar along the sky.Swiftly telegraph lines reach every part of the vast line,Entrenched by corps of engineers skilful of design.And central, in rear of that stupendous and waiting host,The White Czar of all the Russias with his staff takes post.With the Russians forming the centre, gigantic, deep, and wide,And the corps of France the right wing, a mass of fiery pride;And the Sultan’s hordes of Moslems form the left, and there awaitThe awful pending struggle, the doom of a boding fate!And thus they wait the adversary, Gog and Magog.
I knownot if ’twas in a vision, or a spirit dream.’Twas at the noon of day, when fairest summer time sereneClothed all the world in loveliness; when dazzling lightStreamed o’er the Himalayas, and the grandeur of the sightLay all before me, as I stood on that far peerless height,And saw through spirit eyes the whole world at my feet.
Magnificently grand was that far panoramic view,And I was lost in wonderment as swift-winged vision flewFrom sea to sea, lake, river, stream, and tiny rippling rill,Far mountains tow’ring to the skies, and rolling plain and hill,And a thousand verdured swells that like billows roll awayBeyond the horizon’s mystic rim and the far gates of day.
From tropic seas I pierced the veil where Arctic oceans roll,By a thousand isles that gem the deep and flit from pole to pole,And swift return by milder climes of rich perpetual bloom,No more to look on that wild waste of mystery and gloom.
I saw the cattle on a thousand sloping emerald hills,Heard the dream-songs of shepherds that through the distance thrillsThe list’ning ear; and saw millions of tillers of the soil—The support of kings, nations—earth’s suffering sons of toil,A thousand cities glistened in the near and far away;All domed and minaretted, by a thousand streams they lay.I heard the din of commerce and the rush of countless feet,And the cry of untold voices, and babel reigned complete;And pomp and power were trampling the poor and weak ones down,And kings looked on from palace halls with ne’er rebuke nor frown.
I saw giant nations flaunting diverse banners to the breeze,All bristling o’er with armament, and frail thrones at their knees;Lust of power was rampant, jars and threat’nings everywhere,Deep mutterings of the rising storm fell across the air.The seas were white with commerce, with the ships that o’er them sweep,Watched by the navies of the world, vast guardians of the deep;I heard the cry of Christian, and of ruthless Moslem bandsFlaunting their crescent banner with cruel bloodstained hands.
One flag I marked on every sea, in every clime and zone—The meteor flag of Britain, proudly, defiantly outthrown.It seemed to tower over all, bidding tyrants to beware,Of the nation’s rights its bright folds guard to have a proper care.There were mutterings and combinations adverse to Britain’s fame,And from the horizon’s darkening rim burst shafts of ruddy flame.
But a couchant lion rose and shook his majestic, tawny mane,And roared with a roar that shook the seas and braced his giant frame;And the Empress of the Ocean stood on her seagirt shoresIn the panoply of war, where her royal banner soars.Serene and noble there she stood, in majesty and pride,And beckoned, and millions of men uprose, and far and wideHer dauntless ships moved out, and covered all the sea,To guard the nation’s sacred cause and Christian liberty.
The German nation heard the call that echoed o’er the deep,And her mighty heart was thrilled, and with one generous sweepHurled all differences to the four quarters of the wind,And swiftly ranged by Britain’s side, as one in heart and mind.And Italia’s answering cry rose up, regenerated, free,As she joined the alliance with a shout for Christian unity.
The Austrian nation was moved as by a mighty throe,And prepared to strike by Britain’s side the now advancing foeOf Russ, and Gaul, and Moslem hordes converging for the fightThat is to shake the astonished world in horror and affright.
Converging to the gates of India in columns vast they comeTo the martial blare of trumpets and roll of fife and drum,The half a million horse—the van—in wild clangor clears the wayFor three thousand frowning guns in formidable array,With vast masses of infantry—six millions of the foe,To deliver a vast attack, an irresistible blow;To sweep Albion from the Ind, and the German power to break;To win the Orient, even the world to dominateFor the passes of the Himalayas on and on they sweep,Making the very earth to vibrate beneath their marching feet.
But hark! on the expectant and sharply startled earBursts a fiercer blare of trumpets and a still more rousing cheer.I turned my vision southward. Oh, welcome, glorious sight!Five million men advancing in the glowing golden lightOf the sun of Ind, that fell athwart the grand arrayOf Albion and her illustrious allies. And far awayI saw another army moving swiftly to the right(As if detached from Albion’s hosts), and disappear from sightIn the foothills of the Himalayas—some deep strategy evolvedBy Wolseley and Roberts, who war’s problems oft have solved.
Too late, the rushing foe the barring mountain passes gain,And swift debouch in mighty mass and unfold along the plain.An awful front is formed, reaching leagues and leagues away,Deployed in seven battle lines in stupendous grim array,With three thousand guns at intervals frowning there betweenVast corps of horse and infantry, such as the world hath ne’er seen.Intermingled were strange devices to hurl storms of shot and shell,Hot and furious as the deadly, insatiate maw of hell.Bicycle corps with protecting shields flashed everywhere;And balloons, like eagles, poised on high, borne along the air;Swooping like eagles for their prey, searching the far and nigh,They fearless rise above the clouds and soar along the sky.Swiftly telegraph lines reach every part of the vast line,Entrenched by corps of engineers skilful of design.And central, in rear of that stupendous and waiting host,The White Czar of all the Russias with his staff takes post.
With the Russians forming the centre, gigantic, deep, and wide,And the corps of France the right wing, a mass of fiery pride;And the Sultan’s hordes of Moslems form the left, and there awaitThe awful pending struggle, the doom of a boding fate!And thus they wait the adversary, Gog and Magog.
AgainI turned to the southward, thrilled by the glorious sightOf vast battle lines advancing all beautiful and bright;With flashing steel, like countless stars, bannered, bedight they come,Great waves of scarlet, blue and gold, fearlessly rolling on,Preceded by a reconnaissance of cavalry and balloons,With deadly explosives to hurl by hot platoons.Five million men advancing in the panoply of war,With Albion in the centre; and prolonging the right afarAre the Italians and Austrians facing the Moslem bands,The followers of the crescent from far Orient lands.Deployed to the left are the Germans, a stately array,Once more to grapple their ancient foes, defiantly at bay.
AgainI turned to the southward, thrilled by the glorious sightOf vast battle lines advancing all beautiful and bright;With flashing steel, like countless stars, bannered, bedight they come,Great waves of scarlet, blue and gold, fearlessly rolling on,Preceded by a reconnaissance of cavalry and balloons,With deadly explosives to hurl by hot platoons.Five million men advancing in the panoply of war,With Albion in the centre; and prolonging the right afarAre the Italians and Austrians facing the Moslem bands,The followers of the crescent from far Orient lands.Deployed to the left are the Germans, a stately array,Once more to grapple their ancient foes, defiantly at bay.
AgainI turned to the southward, thrilled by the glorious sightOf vast battle lines advancing all beautiful and bright;With flashing steel, like countless stars, bannered, bedight they come,Great waves of scarlet, blue and gold, fearlessly rolling on,Preceded by a reconnaissance of cavalry and balloons,With deadly explosives to hurl by hot platoons.Five million men advancing in the panoply of war,With Albion in the centre; and prolonging the right afarAre the Italians and Austrians facing the Moslem bands,The followers of the crescent from far Orient lands.Deployed to the left are the Germans, a stately array,Once more to grapple their ancient foes, defiantly at bay.
Sevenleagues! seven leagues! an awful frontAlbion and her allies form!Five battle lines advancing in parallel,Fronting the dire impending storm,With vast masses of brilliant cavalryAt intervals on each wing,And supporting divisions in reserve,They half a million sabres bring.Intermingling are three thousand quick-fire guns,And destructive and strange machines—Cunning devices for the attack and defence—Under cover of light steel screens.And covering the front are bicycle corps,And steel-armoured motor cars;Swift and frightfully deadly, well befittingThe grand intrepid sons of Mars.As a very god of vast war sits WolseleyOn his charger, unmoved, serene,In rear of the centre, with a brilliant staff,Intrusted with the command supreme.And the stern Germans are with their great war lord,The Kaiser, eager for the fray;Believing the God of all battles will winThem this last great decisive day.And the Austrians and dauntless ItaliansPassionate enthusiasm bring,And are grandly, unflinchingly coming onUnder Emperor and King.Oh, the dread majesty of that gigantic,Glorious panoply of war!Advancing with the awesome roar of the seaWhen its deep wrath is heard afar;Advancing upon the giant adversaryTo the swift help of the Lord.To put the proud, inveterate followersOf Satan to the pending sword;To free the benighted world from tyranny,And the hard yoke and scourge of sin,They roll on, and onward, fearing neither deathNor hell, all eager to begin.Now pauses the colossal, mighty advance,When near to the gigantic foe,Ere hurling a destroying and vast attack,Ere delivering the first great blow.To perfect his wonderful dispositionsWolseley, with lightning speed,Distributes his detail of final ordersBy wire, ’cycle, and fiery steed.The engineers along the intrepid linesThrow up works of shelter and defence;And wires and ’phones to every abiding corpsWaiting the issue grim, intense.It was an awful and a trying moment.Should heaven now, or hell, prevail?I feared as the masterful Christian hostsPrepared the foe to assail.
Sevenleagues! seven leagues! an awful frontAlbion and her allies form!Five battle lines advancing in parallel,Fronting the dire impending storm,With vast masses of brilliant cavalryAt intervals on each wing,And supporting divisions in reserve,They half a million sabres bring.Intermingling are three thousand quick-fire guns,And destructive and strange machines—Cunning devices for the attack and defence—Under cover of light steel screens.And covering the front are bicycle corps,And steel-armoured motor cars;Swift and frightfully deadly, well befittingThe grand intrepid sons of Mars.As a very god of vast war sits WolseleyOn his charger, unmoved, serene,In rear of the centre, with a brilliant staff,Intrusted with the command supreme.And the stern Germans are with their great war lord,The Kaiser, eager for the fray;Believing the God of all battles will winThem this last great decisive day.And the Austrians and dauntless ItaliansPassionate enthusiasm bring,And are grandly, unflinchingly coming onUnder Emperor and King.Oh, the dread majesty of that gigantic,Glorious panoply of war!Advancing with the awesome roar of the seaWhen its deep wrath is heard afar;Advancing upon the giant adversaryTo the swift help of the Lord.To put the proud, inveterate followersOf Satan to the pending sword;To free the benighted world from tyranny,And the hard yoke and scourge of sin,They roll on, and onward, fearing neither deathNor hell, all eager to begin.Now pauses the colossal, mighty advance,When near to the gigantic foe,Ere hurling a destroying and vast attack,Ere delivering the first great blow.To perfect his wonderful dispositionsWolseley, with lightning speed,Distributes his detail of final ordersBy wire, ’cycle, and fiery steed.The engineers along the intrepid linesThrow up works of shelter and defence;And wires and ’phones to every abiding corpsWaiting the issue grim, intense.It was an awful and a trying moment.Should heaven now, or hell, prevail?I feared as the masterful Christian hostsPrepared the foe to assail.
Sevenleagues! seven leagues! an awful frontAlbion and her allies form!Five battle lines advancing in parallel,Fronting the dire impending storm,With vast masses of brilliant cavalryAt intervals on each wing,And supporting divisions in reserve,They half a million sabres bring.Intermingling are three thousand quick-fire guns,And destructive and strange machines—Cunning devices for the attack and defence—Under cover of light steel screens.And covering the front are bicycle corps,And steel-armoured motor cars;Swift and frightfully deadly, well befittingThe grand intrepid sons of Mars.
As a very god of vast war sits WolseleyOn his charger, unmoved, serene,In rear of the centre, with a brilliant staff,Intrusted with the command supreme.And the stern Germans are with their great war lord,The Kaiser, eager for the fray;Believing the God of all battles will winThem this last great decisive day.And the Austrians and dauntless ItaliansPassionate enthusiasm bring,And are grandly, unflinchingly coming onUnder Emperor and King.
Oh, the dread majesty of that gigantic,Glorious panoply of war!Advancing with the awesome roar of the seaWhen its deep wrath is heard afar;Advancing upon the giant adversaryTo the swift help of the Lord.To put the proud, inveterate followersOf Satan to the pending sword;To free the benighted world from tyranny,And the hard yoke and scourge of sin,They roll on, and onward, fearing neither deathNor hell, all eager to begin.
Now pauses the colossal, mighty advance,When near to the gigantic foe,Ere hurling a destroying and vast attack,Ere delivering the first great blow.To perfect his wonderful dispositionsWolseley, with lightning speed,Distributes his detail of final ordersBy wire, ’cycle, and fiery steed.
The engineers along the intrepid linesThrow up works of shelter and defence;And wires and ’phones to every abiding corpsWaiting the issue grim, intense.
It was an awful and a trying moment.Should heaven now, or hell, prevail?I feared as the masterful Christian hostsPrepared the foe to assail.
Hist! what’s this horror stealing o’er the serenitude of heaven?A weird panoply of cold, metallic light had drivenAll the deep-toned azure of the summer skies away.A spectral terror seems to chill the very noon of day.And see! those strange, dark phantoms falling on the earth and sea,Portending calamity. An appalling mysteryEnvelops all the horizon, and a pending doomSeems inevitable to man; and nature’s woof and bloomIs smitten by a poisonous and hot simoon.But see! it changes. A wondrous crimson floodHath enveloped earth, sea and sky in lurid robes of blood!And from out the awful threatening deeps, and voids on high,Marshalling legions of phantom armies go sweeping by!And they wheeled in vast evolution on high o’er where I stood.The hosts of heaven, in the glorious panoply of God,Wheeled into huge lines of columns fronting on the foe;In golden chariots and equipments strange, and burnished so.I bowed in awe; I could not bear the dazzling sightOf that mass of immaculate glory, intensely bright.But I thought with ecstasy, that heaven would fight this dayFor the Christian hosts in the vale, and bear the foe awayTo destruction, desolation, and bind Satan with a chain,And cast him down headlong, to trouble man never again.
Hist! what’s this horror stealing o’er the serenitude of heaven?A weird panoply of cold, metallic light had drivenAll the deep-toned azure of the summer skies away.A spectral terror seems to chill the very noon of day.And see! those strange, dark phantoms falling on the earth and sea,Portending calamity. An appalling mysteryEnvelops all the horizon, and a pending doomSeems inevitable to man; and nature’s woof and bloomIs smitten by a poisonous and hot simoon.But see! it changes. A wondrous crimson floodHath enveloped earth, sea and sky in lurid robes of blood!And from out the awful threatening deeps, and voids on high,Marshalling legions of phantom armies go sweeping by!And they wheeled in vast evolution on high o’er where I stood.The hosts of heaven, in the glorious panoply of God,Wheeled into huge lines of columns fronting on the foe;In golden chariots and equipments strange, and burnished so.I bowed in awe; I could not bear the dazzling sightOf that mass of immaculate glory, intensely bright.But I thought with ecstasy, that heaven would fight this dayFor the Christian hosts in the vale, and bear the foe awayTo destruction, desolation, and bind Satan with a chain,And cast him down headlong, to trouble man never again.
Hist! what’s this horror stealing o’er the serenitude of heaven?A weird panoply of cold, metallic light had drivenAll the deep-toned azure of the summer skies away.A spectral terror seems to chill the very noon of day.And see! those strange, dark phantoms falling on the earth and sea,Portending calamity. An appalling mysteryEnvelops all the horizon, and a pending doomSeems inevitable to man; and nature’s woof and bloomIs smitten by a poisonous and hot simoon.
But see! it changes. A wondrous crimson floodHath enveloped earth, sea and sky in lurid robes of blood!And from out the awful threatening deeps, and voids on high,Marshalling legions of phantom armies go sweeping by!And they wheeled in vast evolution on high o’er where I stood.The hosts of heaven, in the glorious panoply of God,Wheeled into huge lines of columns fronting on the foe;In golden chariots and equipments strange, and burnished so.I bowed in awe; I could not bear the dazzling sightOf that mass of immaculate glory, intensely bright.But I thought with ecstasy, that heaven would fight this dayFor the Christian hosts in the vale, and bear the foe awayTo destruction, desolation, and bind Satan with a chain,And cast him down headlong, to trouble man never again.
Buthark! from the threatening vale belowComes a rumbling commotion,A sullen roar, as when storms sweep acrossThe wrathful face of the ocean;And from Albion’s front move two thousand gunsSternly rolling upon the foe,With vast corps of riflemen in support;And swiftly forward flashing goThe bicycle divisions, and quick-fire guns,A destructive torrent to pour.And aloft are the airships and balloons;Like great eagles they rise and soarWith dire explosives and deadly machinesTo hurl death on the lines below—The awful lines in manœuvre vastIn the strange light glittering so.Suddenly along those ponderous frontsBursts the roar of the dreadful guns,Causing the very earth to trembleAs through it the vibration runs.And peal on peal incessant staggeredThe great mountain on which I stood;And the responsive, bellowing thunderOf the adversary froze the blood.Thus, loosed from the leash, the dogs of warBurst in nameless fury on the foe,And death was hurled from the clouds aboveTo the hosts in the vale below.And I saw lines of airships advancing,Soaring like mighty birds of prey;And rent asunder were the lurid cloudsThat obscured the red god of day.And I saw them glide on to each other,The opposing lines up on high,And the trumpet call from balloon to balloonManœuvred them through the sky.And still dropping their horrid explosivesBelow to the shattered plain,They seek by quick aerial manœuvresAdvantageous positions to gain.And thus rising, poising, and advancing,Pausing in close column and line,The strange scene was awesome and wonderful,And immeasurably sublime.Fiercely on each other with quick-fire gunsDestruction they now madly pour,And infernal machines and magazinesAdd their terrible, deadly roar.And out on the vast aerial spacesIt echoed and rolled away,A shuddering and horrible tumult,Lost in distance grim and gray.And contending there for the mastery,Some collided with ruinous clash,And fell from the fierce crimson clouds aboveTo the earth with a horrid crash.And thus they fought in the aerial plainsTo cover their own below,And to hover o’er, and hurl destructionOn the contending mammoth foe.I looked on the fearful scene below,And the earth was pent with the slain;And the deafening and tumultuous roarRolled o’er the embattled plain.And from the hot lips of six thousand gunsLeaped whirlwinds of smoke and flame,And the fiendish missiles tore divisionsAsunder, in ruin amain.In majestic evolution vast massesOf infantry enter the fire zone,And whole fronts of magnificent columnsInto eternity are blown.And the bicycle corps and quick-fire gunsInto the maelstrom of battle go;Flashing in and out all along the fronts,They deliver their blow on blow.Vast clouds of cavalry charge on the wingsAt intervals along the line;And the mighty reservesen masseabideMagnificent and sublime.And these enormous adversaries swayIn furious struggles to and fro,Repelling, receding, and advancing,Like the vast sea-waves’ ebb and flow.Incessant charges of the cavalrySweep like whirlwinds over the plain,And though thousands fall in the madmelee,They charge and recharge again.And they shore whole lines into fragmentsWhere confusion had entered in;Where the foot and horse had suffered most,They drove their wild charge within.Again and again they too were hurled back,Broken, beaten, and swept awayBy the deadly guns and the magazinesOf the infantry’s ceaseless play.And explosives drop from the fierce red clouds,Hurling death and dismay around,Making ghastly rents in the shattered ranks,Chasming the trembling ground.And the infantry charged fierce and wildWith the bayonet’s resistless play,And their deadly work in the madmelee,Added horror to the ghastly day.Thousands of banners waved through smoke and flame,And wild cheers rent the glaring sky;Along the lines for leagues and leaguesRose the dauntless battle-cry.And oh, the incessant tumultuous roar!On the shuddering world it fell;It seemed to rise from the infernal pit,The red bellowing maw of hell.
Buthark! from the threatening vale belowComes a rumbling commotion,A sullen roar, as when storms sweep acrossThe wrathful face of the ocean;And from Albion’s front move two thousand gunsSternly rolling upon the foe,With vast corps of riflemen in support;And swiftly forward flashing goThe bicycle divisions, and quick-fire guns,A destructive torrent to pour.And aloft are the airships and balloons;Like great eagles they rise and soarWith dire explosives and deadly machinesTo hurl death on the lines below—The awful lines in manœuvre vastIn the strange light glittering so.Suddenly along those ponderous frontsBursts the roar of the dreadful guns,Causing the very earth to trembleAs through it the vibration runs.And peal on peal incessant staggeredThe great mountain on which I stood;And the responsive, bellowing thunderOf the adversary froze the blood.Thus, loosed from the leash, the dogs of warBurst in nameless fury on the foe,And death was hurled from the clouds aboveTo the hosts in the vale below.And I saw lines of airships advancing,Soaring like mighty birds of prey;And rent asunder were the lurid cloudsThat obscured the red god of day.And I saw them glide on to each other,The opposing lines up on high,And the trumpet call from balloon to balloonManœuvred them through the sky.And still dropping their horrid explosivesBelow to the shattered plain,They seek by quick aerial manœuvresAdvantageous positions to gain.And thus rising, poising, and advancing,Pausing in close column and line,The strange scene was awesome and wonderful,And immeasurably sublime.Fiercely on each other with quick-fire gunsDestruction they now madly pour,And infernal machines and magazinesAdd their terrible, deadly roar.And out on the vast aerial spacesIt echoed and rolled away,A shuddering and horrible tumult,Lost in distance grim and gray.And contending there for the mastery,Some collided with ruinous clash,And fell from the fierce crimson clouds aboveTo the earth with a horrid crash.And thus they fought in the aerial plainsTo cover their own below,And to hover o’er, and hurl destructionOn the contending mammoth foe.I looked on the fearful scene below,And the earth was pent with the slain;And the deafening and tumultuous roarRolled o’er the embattled plain.And from the hot lips of six thousand gunsLeaped whirlwinds of smoke and flame,And the fiendish missiles tore divisionsAsunder, in ruin amain.In majestic evolution vast massesOf infantry enter the fire zone,And whole fronts of magnificent columnsInto eternity are blown.And the bicycle corps and quick-fire gunsInto the maelstrom of battle go;Flashing in and out all along the fronts,They deliver their blow on blow.Vast clouds of cavalry charge on the wingsAt intervals along the line;And the mighty reservesen masseabideMagnificent and sublime.And these enormous adversaries swayIn furious struggles to and fro,Repelling, receding, and advancing,Like the vast sea-waves’ ebb and flow.Incessant charges of the cavalrySweep like whirlwinds over the plain,And though thousands fall in the madmelee,They charge and recharge again.And they shore whole lines into fragmentsWhere confusion had entered in;Where the foot and horse had suffered most,They drove their wild charge within.Again and again they too were hurled back,Broken, beaten, and swept awayBy the deadly guns and the magazinesOf the infantry’s ceaseless play.And explosives drop from the fierce red clouds,Hurling death and dismay around,Making ghastly rents in the shattered ranks,Chasming the trembling ground.And the infantry charged fierce and wildWith the bayonet’s resistless play,And their deadly work in the madmelee,Added horror to the ghastly day.Thousands of banners waved through smoke and flame,And wild cheers rent the glaring sky;Along the lines for leagues and leaguesRose the dauntless battle-cry.And oh, the incessant tumultuous roar!On the shuddering world it fell;It seemed to rise from the infernal pit,The red bellowing maw of hell.
Buthark! from the threatening vale belowComes a rumbling commotion,A sullen roar, as when storms sweep acrossThe wrathful face of the ocean;And from Albion’s front move two thousand gunsSternly rolling upon the foe,With vast corps of riflemen in support;And swiftly forward flashing goThe bicycle divisions, and quick-fire guns,A destructive torrent to pour.And aloft are the airships and balloons;Like great eagles they rise and soarWith dire explosives and deadly machinesTo hurl death on the lines below—The awful lines in manœuvre vastIn the strange light glittering so.Suddenly along those ponderous frontsBursts the roar of the dreadful guns,Causing the very earth to trembleAs through it the vibration runs.And peal on peal incessant staggeredThe great mountain on which I stood;And the responsive, bellowing thunderOf the adversary froze the blood.Thus, loosed from the leash, the dogs of warBurst in nameless fury on the foe,And death was hurled from the clouds aboveTo the hosts in the vale below.
And I saw lines of airships advancing,Soaring like mighty birds of prey;And rent asunder were the lurid cloudsThat obscured the red god of day.And I saw them glide on to each other,The opposing lines up on high,And the trumpet call from balloon to balloonManœuvred them through the sky.And still dropping their horrid explosivesBelow to the shattered plain,They seek by quick aerial manœuvresAdvantageous positions to gain.And thus rising, poising, and advancing,Pausing in close column and line,The strange scene was awesome and wonderful,And immeasurably sublime.Fiercely on each other with quick-fire gunsDestruction they now madly pour,And infernal machines and magazinesAdd their terrible, deadly roar.And out on the vast aerial spacesIt echoed and rolled away,A shuddering and horrible tumult,Lost in distance grim and gray.And contending there for the mastery,Some collided with ruinous clash,And fell from the fierce crimson clouds aboveTo the earth with a horrid crash.
And thus they fought in the aerial plainsTo cover their own below,And to hover o’er, and hurl destructionOn the contending mammoth foe.
I looked on the fearful scene below,And the earth was pent with the slain;And the deafening and tumultuous roarRolled o’er the embattled plain.And from the hot lips of six thousand gunsLeaped whirlwinds of smoke and flame,And the fiendish missiles tore divisionsAsunder, in ruin amain.
In majestic evolution vast massesOf infantry enter the fire zone,And whole fronts of magnificent columnsInto eternity are blown.And the bicycle corps and quick-fire gunsInto the maelstrom of battle go;Flashing in and out all along the fronts,They deliver their blow on blow.Vast clouds of cavalry charge on the wingsAt intervals along the line;And the mighty reservesen masseabideMagnificent and sublime.
And these enormous adversaries swayIn furious struggles to and fro,Repelling, receding, and advancing,Like the vast sea-waves’ ebb and flow.Incessant charges of the cavalrySweep like whirlwinds over the plain,And though thousands fall in the madmelee,They charge and recharge again.And they shore whole lines into fragmentsWhere confusion had entered in;Where the foot and horse had suffered most,They drove their wild charge within.Again and again they too were hurled back,Broken, beaten, and swept awayBy the deadly guns and the magazinesOf the infantry’s ceaseless play.
And explosives drop from the fierce red clouds,Hurling death and dismay around,Making ghastly rents in the shattered ranks,Chasming the trembling ground.And the infantry charged fierce and wildWith the bayonet’s resistless play,And their deadly work in the madmelee,Added horror to the ghastly day.Thousands of banners waved through smoke and flame,And wild cheers rent the glaring sky;Along the lines for leagues and leaguesRose the dauntless battle-cry.And oh, the incessant tumultuous roar!On the shuddering world it fell;It seemed to rise from the infernal pit,The red bellowing maw of hell.
Andso the night fell redly down,Such a night as man ne’er hath seen—One vast crimson glare through the universe,And weird phantoms flitting betweenThe stars that glowed in the vast far voids,Falling prone on the earth and sea.Horrible convulsions ran all amain,Staggering the mountains under me;And lightning leapt from the fierce red clouds,And the appalling thunder shockSeemed to rive the firmament in twain,Crashing from mountain and rock to rock.And fiendish voices shrieked through the air,Mocking and gibing at man’s doom;And the pale, dead legions heaping the plain,Peering out of the gory gloom.And the battle ceased not; through the nightIt raged with the fury of hell,And the ponderous blows that Albion dealtLike a destroying angel fell.They pressed the Russians from line to lineBy the bayonet and sabre stroke;On and on with a deathless valor,Through their vast divisions they broke.And the left of the line stands firm, whereThe Germans are sternly at bay,Assailed by the Gauls in furious hate,—They must not and will not give way.But the right is threatened and sorely pressedBy the Sultan’s valiant corps,For like rocks they abide before the fireThe Italians and Austrians pour.Avalanches of smoke and raging flameFrom the batteries belch far and wide;Like a misty veil cover all the field,And creep up the great mountain side.’Twas as a mist of blood, obscuring butSlightly the struggle; and on highThe bright aerial ships still hoveredIn conflict along the fierce red sky.Suddenly, with terrific, awful throe,The earth was rent at the mountain’s base,And hot sulphurous fumes uprose, andDemoniacal cries, and the faceOf Satan, with horrible equipments,Crawled up o’er the red rim of hell;And twelve flaming legions of fiends—lost souls—Sprang after, and into phalanx fell.With flaming harness all scaled, bedight,Hideous blazoned shield and lance,With Satan, Lucifer and Apollyon,They prepared their direful advanceTo the help of the mighty adversary,Gog and Magog. They clanged their shields,And raged and uttered such blasphemous,Malignant, and discordant criesAs only the infernal conclavedRegions of the damned could vomit forth.And frightful shapes—scorpions, lizards, vampires,Dragons, and serpents—wriggled up,Hissing, and spread along the scorched groundTheir poisonous slime and horrid breath;And all things venomous, of which to touch,To breathe, is loathsome, instant death!I was horrified and appalled,And raised my eyes in prayer;And oh, the sight that met my affrighted gaze,In the red cloud’s tremendous glare!The celestial army, by some wondrousEvolution, poised o’er the foe—Poised central—and hurled annihilationTo the Satanic hosts below;Hurled vast streams of glaring lightning,And rending thunderbolts roaring fell,And countless blinding meteors scathedAnd ruined Satan where they fell.Avalanches of ponderous aerolitesTore the maw and counterscarp of hell!Nameless armaments beat Satan’s cohorts down,And a hideous, discordant knellOf rage, despair, smote the shuddering hills,With’ring the verdure all amain,And rolled in nameless horror alongThe lines of that ensanguined plain.Nearer and nearer swooped the celestialLegions in majesty and might,Until, all ruined and beaten down,The demon foe were put to flight,And Satan seized and bound with a chain,And hurled blaspheming back once moreDown the accursed, eternal void ofDamnation’s frenzied awful shore!Closed and sealed was that deadly mawOf desolation and of doom,That man might escape the horror of anEverlasting suffering and gloom.All through the lurid night the conflict ragedWith furious, unabated breath,Swaying backward, forward, with frightful carnageIn the cruel revelry of death.And the flame and light of that vast battle,And the veil that shrouded all the sky,Made light as day upon the earth and sea,And where the air ships fought on high.All the night Albion had pressed the hugeCentre of the foe from line to line,Pressing onward, aye, steadily onward,With deeds of chivalry sublime.
Andso the night fell redly down,Such a night as man ne’er hath seen—One vast crimson glare through the universe,And weird phantoms flitting betweenThe stars that glowed in the vast far voids,Falling prone on the earth and sea.Horrible convulsions ran all amain,Staggering the mountains under me;And lightning leapt from the fierce red clouds,And the appalling thunder shockSeemed to rive the firmament in twain,Crashing from mountain and rock to rock.And fiendish voices shrieked through the air,Mocking and gibing at man’s doom;And the pale, dead legions heaping the plain,Peering out of the gory gloom.And the battle ceased not; through the nightIt raged with the fury of hell,And the ponderous blows that Albion dealtLike a destroying angel fell.They pressed the Russians from line to lineBy the bayonet and sabre stroke;On and on with a deathless valor,Through their vast divisions they broke.And the left of the line stands firm, whereThe Germans are sternly at bay,Assailed by the Gauls in furious hate,—They must not and will not give way.But the right is threatened and sorely pressedBy the Sultan’s valiant corps,For like rocks they abide before the fireThe Italians and Austrians pour.Avalanches of smoke and raging flameFrom the batteries belch far and wide;Like a misty veil cover all the field,And creep up the great mountain side.’Twas as a mist of blood, obscuring butSlightly the struggle; and on highThe bright aerial ships still hoveredIn conflict along the fierce red sky.Suddenly, with terrific, awful throe,The earth was rent at the mountain’s base,And hot sulphurous fumes uprose, andDemoniacal cries, and the faceOf Satan, with horrible equipments,Crawled up o’er the red rim of hell;And twelve flaming legions of fiends—lost souls—Sprang after, and into phalanx fell.With flaming harness all scaled, bedight,Hideous blazoned shield and lance,With Satan, Lucifer and Apollyon,They prepared their direful advanceTo the help of the mighty adversary,Gog and Magog. They clanged their shields,And raged and uttered such blasphemous,Malignant, and discordant criesAs only the infernal conclavedRegions of the damned could vomit forth.And frightful shapes—scorpions, lizards, vampires,Dragons, and serpents—wriggled up,Hissing, and spread along the scorched groundTheir poisonous slime and horrid breath;And all things venomous, of which to touch,To breathe, is loathsome, instant death!I was horrified and appalled,And raised my eyes in prayer;And oh, the sight that met my affrighted gaze,In the red cloud’s tremendous glare!The celestial army, by some wondrousEvolution, poised o’er the foe—Poised central—and hurled annihilationTo the Satanic hosts below;Hurled vast streams of glaring lightning,And rending thunderbolts roaring fell,And countless blinding meteors scathedAnd ruined Satan where they fell.Avalanches of ponderous aerolitesTore the maw and counterscarp of hell!Nameless armaments beat Satan’s cohorts down,And a hideous, discordant knellOf rage, despair, smote the shuddering hills,With’ring the verdure all amain,And rolled in nameless horror alongThe lines of that ensanguined plain.Nearer and nearer swooped the celestialLegions in majesty and might,Until, all ruined and beaten down,The demon foe were put to flight,And Satan seized and bound with a chain,And hurled blaspheming back once moreDown the accursed, eternal void ofDamnation’s frenzied awful shore!Closed and sealed was that deadly mawOf desolation and of doom,That man might escape the horror of anEverlasting suffering and gloom.All through the lurid night the conflict ragedWith furious, unabated breath,Swaying backward, forward, with frightful carnageIn the cruel revelry of death.And the flame and light of that vast battle,And the veil that shrouded all the sky,Made light as day upon the earth and sea,And where the air ships fought on high.All the night Albion had pressed the hugeCentre of the foe from line to line,Pressing onward, aye, steadily onward,With deeds of chivalry sublime.
Andso the night fell redly down,Such a night as man ne’er hath seen—One vast crimson glare through the universe,And weird phantoms flitting betweenThe stars that glowed in the vast far voids,Falling prone on the earth and sea.Horrible convulsions ran all amain,Staggering the mountains under me;And lightning leapt from the fierce red clouds,And the appalling thunder shockSeemed to rive the firmament in twain,Crashing from mountain and rock to rock.And fiendish voices shrieked through the air,Mocking and gibing at man’s doom;And the pale, dead legions heaping the plain,Peering out of the gory gloom.
And the battle ceased not; through the nightIt raged with the fury of hell,And the ponderous blows that Albion dealtLike a destroying angel fell.They pressed the Russians from line to lineBy the bayonet and sabre stroke;On and on with a deathless valor,Through their vast divisions they broke.And the left of the line stands firm, whereThe Germans are sternly at bay,Assailed by the Gauls in furious hate,—They must not and will not give way.
But the right is threatened and sorely pressedBy the Sultan’s valiant corps,For like rocks they abide before the fireThe Italians and Austrians pour.Avalanches of smoke and raging flameFrom the batteries belch far and wide;Like a misty veil cover all the field,And creep up the great mountain side.’Twas as a mist of blood, obscuring butSlightly the struggle; and on highThe bright aerial ships still hoveredIn conflict along the fierce red sky.
Suddenly, with terrific, awful throe,The earth was rent at the mountain’s base,And hot sulphurous fumes uprose, andDemoniacal cries, and the faceOf Satan, with horrible equipments,Crawled up o’er the red rim of hell;And twelve flaming legions of fiends—lost souls—Sprang after, and into phalanx fell.With flaming harness all scaled, bedight,Hideous blazoned shield and lance,With Satan, Lucifer and Apollyon,They prepared their direful advance
To the help of the mighty adversary,Gog and Magog. They clanged their shields,And raged and uttered such blasphemous,Malignant, and discordant criesAs only the infernal conclavedRegions of the damned could vomit forth.And frightful shapes—scorpions, lizards, vampires,Dragons, and serpents—wriggled up,Hissing, and spread along the scorched groundTheir poisonous slime and horrid breath;And all things venomous, of which to touch,To breathe, is loathsome, instant death!
I was horrified and appalled,And raised my eyes in prayer;And oh, the sight that met my affrighted gaze,In the red cloud’s tremendous glare!The celestial army, by some wondrousEvolution, poised o’er the foe—Poised central—and hurled annihilationTo the Satanic hosts below;Hurled vast streams of glaring lightning,And rending thunderbolts roaring fell,And countless blinding meteors scathedAnd ruined Satan where they fell.Avalanches of ponderous aerolitesTore the maw and counterscarp of hell!Nameless armaments beat Satan’s cohorts down,And a hideous, discordant knellOf rage, despair, smote the shuddering hills,With’ring the verdure all amain,And rolled in nameless horror alongThe lines of that ensanguined plain.
Nearer and nearer swooped the celestialLegions in majesty and might,Until, all ruined and beaten down,The demon foe were put to flight,And Satan seized and bound with a chain,And hurled blaspheming back once moreDown the accursed, eternal void ofDamnation’s frenzied awful shore!Closed and sealed was that deadly mawOf desolation and of doom,That man might escape the horror of anEverlasting suffering and gloom.
All through the lurid night the conflict ragedWith furious, unabated breath,Swaying backward, forward, with frightful carnageIn the cruel revelry of death.And the flame and light of that vast battle,And the veil that shrouded all the sky,Made light as day upon the earth and sea,And where the air ships fought on high.All the night Albion had pressed the hugeCentre of the foe from line to line,Pressing onward, aye, steadily onward,With deeds of chivalry sublime.
Theintrepid Germans have not made way,But like the rocks they firm abide,And the fiery Gauls dash swift upon them,Like the rise and sweep of ocean’s tideIn frenzied fury hurled forward,And rolled backward over allThe stern rocks they seethe and roar upon, ereHurled in ruin to their fall.The far right of the line’s in peril soreAt the dawn of another day,And though sorely pressed by the Sultan’s corps,They will die, but never give way.This I saw as the glaring sun uprose,And the conflict still shook the world;And in mighty mass all along the front,The vast foot and horse were hurled.And the earth was heaped and pent with the slain,And their blood like a river ran,And ne’er was witnessed such a battle-sceneSince ever this strange world began.And I see through the red rays of the sunA glad sight that my bosom thrills:’Tis Roberts, debouching in rear of the foe,From the sheltering Himalayan hills.’Twas he that had disappeared to the rightEre the dreadful conflict began;’Twas Wolseley’s masterful, strategic stroke—A card in his vast battle plan.With the flower of the Ind and British GuardsHe fell on the brave Sultan’s rearWith half a million of horse and foot,With a prolonged, thunderous cheer.And they shattered the Moslems from right to left,And lent and tore them asunderBy the infantry’s fire, and sabre stroke,And the batteries’ awful thunder.Crushed to atoms between the two lines,The Sultan’s ruin is complete,And he lays his flaming scimitar downAt the invincible Roberts’ feet.The critical time had now arrivedTo deliver a crushing blow,And Wolseley redoubled all the fireOf his guns on the suffering foe;And the infantry close up, and againThey a devastating fire pour,And the bicycle corps and quick-fire gunsAdded their fierce and incessant roar.And from the crimson clouds his aerial shipsHurl their cruel and deadly rain,Shattering the foe in the lines belowAnd rending the stormswept plain.A grandcoup de mainhe had prepared—A thousand electric motor cars,With a hedge of spears on their outward shieldsThat flashed like countless silver stars;Each with a quick-fire gun, and a score of menHeld with the reserves in the rear.He sends with a rush all along the linesThose intrepid souls without fear.Forward in line at intervals they sweepWith resistless hedge of steel,And the writhing lines of the foe they reach—See! see! they in wild horror reelFrom the death rush of those wonderful carsThat cut them to pieces there,And confusion enters those suffering lines,And a wave of sullen despair.And Wolseley seizes the fateful moment,And rolls forward now the whole line—Seven leagues! seven leagues of front!Irresistible and sublime.“All along their front let the cavalry charge!Crush now their faltering powers!Let the reserves sweep the foe from the field!Complete this day of days, which is ours.”And they swift unfold and sweep o’er the plain,Resistlessly forward everywhere,A fiery mass of heroic chivalry,So glorious and so fair.Like destroying angels they fall on the foe,Rending, destroying all amain,And they reel back in despair, still struggling there,But ever and ever in vain.And the cavalry charged in mighty mass,And the earth rocked beneath their tread,And they shore whole lines into mere fragments,And the fragments in terror fled.The infantry volleyed, and swept the guns,And charged through the flame and smoke,And rent and ruined those wavering linesAs through and through them they broke.Thus Albion and her allies rolled onTill from every position driven,Bleeding and torn, ruined, and all forlorn,The foe were cast to the four winds of heaven.Oh, mourn! oh, pity! and weep, all the world;At the close of that awful dayTwo million of fearless, heroic deadWere hidden forever away!And the sinister skies were cleared again,And the phantoms that fell on the sea,And the fierce crimson clouds faded away,And heaven’s blue shone again o’er me.I heard a song, as of seraphic choirs,And it floated down from above,A most wonderful song of ecstasy,Of rejoicing and infinite love.And the celestial host soared upward,Away, repeating the chorus; it ran:“For the world is redeemed; joy! joy! joy!Peace on earth and good will to man.”
Theintrepid Germans have not made way,But like the rocks they firm abide,And the fiery Gauls dash swift upon them,Like the rise and sweep of ocean’s tideIn frenzied fury hurled forward,And rolled backward over allThe stern rocks they seethe and roar upon, ereHurled in ruin to their fall.The far right of the line’s in peril soreAt the dawn of another day,And though sorely pressed by the Sultan’s corps,They will die, but never give way.This I saw as the glaring sun uprose,And the conflict still shook the world;And in mighty mass all along the front,The vast foot and horse were hurled.And the earth was heaped and pent with the slain,And their blood like a river ran,And ne’er was witnessed such a battle-sceneSince ever this strange world began.And I see through the red rays of the sunA glad sight that my bosom thrills:’Tis Roberts, debouching in rear of the foe,From the sheltering Himalayan hills.’Twas he that had disappeared to the rightEre the dreadful conflict began;’Twas Wolseley’s masterful, strategic stroke—A card in his vast battle plan.With the flower of the Ind and British GuardsHe fell on the brave Sultan’s rearWith half a million of horse and foot,With a prolonged, thunderous cheer.And they shattered the Moslems from right to left,And lent and tore them asunderBy the infantry’s fire, and sabre stroke,And the batteries’ awful thunder.Crushed to atoms between the two lines,The Sultan’s ruin is complete,And he lays his flaming scimitar downAt the invincible Roberts’ feet.The critical time had now arrivedTo deliver a crushing blow,And Wolseley redoubled all the fireOf his guns on the suffering foe;And the infantry close up, and againThey a devastating fire pour,And the bicycle corps and quick-fire gunsAdded their fierce and incessant roar.And from the crimson clouds his aerial shipsHurl their cruel and deadly rain,Shattering the foe in the lines belowAnd rending the stormswept plain.A grandcoup de mainhe had prepared—A thousand electric motor cars,With a hedge of spears on their outward shieldsThat flashed like countless silver stars;Each with a quick-fire gun, and a score of menHeld with the reserves in the rear.He sends with a rush all along the linesThose intrepid souls without fear.Forward in line at intervals they sweepWith resistless hedge of steel,And the writhing lines of the foe they reach—See! see! they in wild horror reelFrom the death rush of those wonderful carsThat cut them to pieces there,And confusion enters those suffering lines,And a wave of sullen despair.And Wolseley seizes the fateful moment,And rolls forward now the whole line—Seven leagues! seven leagues of front!Irresistible and sublime.“All along their front let the cavalry charge!Crush now their faltering powers!Let the reserves sweep the foe from the field!Complete this day of days, which is ours.”And they swift unfold and sweep o’er the plain,Resistlessly forward everywhere,A fiery mass of heroic chivalry,So glorious and so fair.Like destroying angels they fall on the foe,Rending, destroying all amain,And they reel back in despair, still struggling there,But ever and ever in vain.And the cavalry charged in mighty mass,And the earth rocked beneath their tread,And they shore whole lines into mere fragments,And the fragments in terror fled.The infantry volleyed, and swept the guns,And charged through the flame and smoke,And rent and ruined those wavering linesAs through and through them they broke.Thus Albion and her allies rolled onTill from every position driven,Bleeding and torn, ruined, and all forlorn,The foe were cast to the four winds of heaven.Oh, mourn! oh, pity! and weep, all the world;At the close of that awful dayTwo million of fearless, heroic deadWere hidden forever away!And the sinister skies were cleared again,And the phantoms that fell on the sea,And the fierce crimson clouds faded away,And heaven’s blue shone again o’er me.I heard a song, as of seraphic choirs,And it floated down from above,A most wonderful song of ecstasy,Of rejoicing and infinite love.And the celestial host soared upward,Away, repeating the chorus; it ran:“For the world is redeemed; joy! joy! joy!Peace on earth and good will to man.”
Theintrepid Germans have not made way,But like the rocks they firm abide,And the fiery Gauls dash swift upon them,Like the rise and sweep of ocean’s tideIn frenzied fury hurled forward,And rolled backward over allThe stern rocks they seethe and roar upon, ereHurled in ruin to their fall.
The far right of the line’s in peril soreAt the dawn of another day,And though sorely pressed by the Sultan’s corps,They will die, but never give way.
This I saw as the glaring sun uprose,And the conflict still shook the world;And in mighty mass all along the front,The vast foot and horse were hurled.And the earth was heaped and pent with the slain,And their blood like a river ran,And ne’er was witnessed such a battle-sceneSince ever this strange world began.
And I see through the red rays of the sunA glad sight that my bosom thrills:’Tis Roberts, debouching in rear of the foe,From the sheltering Himalayan hills.’Twas he that had disappeared to the rightEre the dreadful conflict began;’Twas Wolseley’s masterful, strategic stroke—A card in his vast battle plan.With the flower of the Ind and British GuardsHe fell on the brave Sultan’s rearWith half a million of horse and foot,With a prolonged, thunderous cheer.And they shattered the Moslems from right to left,And lent and tore them asunderBy the infantry’s fire, and sabre stroke,And the batteries’ awful thunder.
Crushed to atoms between the two lines,The Sultan’s ruin is complete,And he lays his flaming scimitar downAt the invincible Roberts’ feet.
The critical time had now arrivedTo deliver a crushing blow,And Wolseley redoubled all the fireOf his guns on the suffering foe;And the infantry close up, and againThey a devastating fire pour,And the bicycle corps and quick-fire gunsAdded their fierce and incessant roar.And from the crimson clouds his aerial shipsHurl their cruel and deadly rain,Shattering the foe in the lines belowAnd rending the stormswept plain.
A grandcoup de mainhe had prepared—A thousand electric motor cars,With a hedge of spears on their outward shieldsThat flashed like countless silver stars;Each with a quick-fire gun, and a score of menHeld with the reserves in the rear.He sends with a rush all along the linesThose intrepid souls without fear.Forward in line at intervals they sweepWith resistless hedge of steel,And the writhing lines of the foe they reach—See! see! they in wild horror reelFrom the death rush of those wonderful carsThat cut them to pieces there,And confusion enters those suffering lines,And a wave of sullen despair.
And Wolseley seizes the fateful moment,And rolls forward now the whole line—Seven leagues! seven leagues of front!Irresistible and sublime.
“All along their front let the cavalry charge!Crush now their faltering powers!Let the reserves sweep the foe from the field!Complete this day of days, which is ours.”And they swift unfold and sweep o’er the plain,Resistlessly forward everywhere,A fiery mass of heroic chivalry,So glorious and so fair.
Like destroying angels they fall on the foe,Rending, destroying all amain,And they reel back in despair, still struggling there,But ever and ever in vain.
And the cavalry charged in mighty mass,And the earth rocked beneath their tread,And they shore whole lines into mere fragments,And the fragments in terror fled.
The infantry volleyed, and swept the guns,And charged through the flame and smoke,And rent and ruined those wavering linesAs through and through them they broke.
Thus Albion and her allies rolled onTill from every position driven,Bleeding and torn, ruined, and all forlorn,The foe were cast to the four winds of heaven.
Oh, mourn! oh, pity! and weep, all the world;At the close of that awful dayTwo million of fearless, heroic deadWere hidden forever away!
And the sinister skies were cleared again,And the phantoms that fell on the sea,And the fierce crimson clouds faded away,And heaven’s blue shone again o’er me.I heard a song, as of seraphic choirs,And it floated down from above,A most wonderful song of ecstasy,Of rejoicing and infinite love.
And the celestial host soared upward,Away, repeating the chorus; it ran:“For the world is redeemed; joy! joy! joy!Peace on earth and good will to man.”