Vignette
Loud was the hostile clang of arms,And hoarse the hollow sound,WhenPompeyscatter'd wild alarmsThe ravag'd East around,The crimson deluge dreadful dy'd the ground:An iron forest of destructive spearsRear'd their stern stems, where lateThe bending harvest wav'd its rustling ears:Rome, through the swarming gate,Pour'd her ambitious hosts to slaughter forth:Such was the will of fate!From the cold regions of the North,At length, on raven wings, shall vengeance come,And justice pour the urn of bitterness on Rome."Roman! ('twas thus the chief ofAsgardcry'd)AmbitiousRoman! triumph for a while;Trample on freedom in thy victor pride;Yet, though now thy fortune smile,ThoughMithridatesfly forlorn,Once thy dread, but now thy scorn,Odinwill never live a shameful slave;Some region will he yet explore,Beyond the reach of Rome;Where, upon some colder shore,Freedom yet thy force shall brave,Freedom yet shall find a home:There, where the eagle dares not soar,Soon shall the raven find a safe retreat.Asgard, farewell! farewell my native seat!Farewell for ever! yet, whilst life shall rollHer warm tide thro' thine injur'd chieftain's breast,Oft will he to thy memory drop the tear:Never more shallOdinrest,Never quaff the sportive bowl,Or soothe in peace his slothful soul,Whilst Rome triumphant lords it here.Triumph in thy victor might,Mock the chief ofAsgard's flight;But soon the seeds of vengeance shall be sown,AndOdin's race hurl down thy blood-cemented throne."Nurtur'd by Scandinavia's hardy soil,Strong grew the vigorous plant;Danger could ne'er the nation daunt,For war, to other realms a toil,Was but the pastime here;Skill'd the bold youth to hurl the unerring spear,To wield the falchion, to direct the dart,Firm was each warrior's frame, yet gentle was his heart.Freedom, with joy, beheld the noble race,And fill'd each bosom with her vivid fire;Nor vice, nor luxury, debaseThe free-born offspring of the free-born sire;There genuine poesy, in freedom bright,Diffus'd o'er all her clear, her all-enlivening light.From Helicon's meandering rillsThe inspiring goddess fled;Amid the Scandinavian hillsIn clouds she hid her head;There the bold, the daring muse,Every daring warrior wooes;The sacred lust of deathless fameBurnt in every warrior's soul:"Whilst future ages hymn my name,(The son ofOdincries)I shall quaff the foaming bowlWith my forefathers in yon azure skies;Methinks I see my foeman's skullWith the mantling beverage full;I hear the shield-roof'd hall resoundTo martial music's echoing sound;I see the virgins, valour's meed,—Death is bliss—I rush to bleed."See where the murdererEgillstands,He grasps the harp with skilful hands,And pours the soul-emoving tide of song;Mute admiration holds the listening throng:The royal sire forgets his murder'd son;Ericforgives; a thousand yearsTheir swift revolving course have run,Since thus the bard could check the father's tears,Could soothe his soul to peace,And never shall the fame ofEgillcease.Dark was the dungeon, damp the ground,Beneath the reach of cheering day,WhereRegnerdying lay;Poisonous adders all aroundOn the expiring warrior hung,Yet the full stream of verse flow'd from his dauntless tongue:"We fought with swords," the warrior cry'd,"We fought with swords," he said—he dy'd.Jomsburg lifts her lofty walls,Sparta revives on Scandinavia's shore;Undismay'd each hero falls,And scorns his death in terror to deplore."Strike,Thorchill, strike! drive deep the blow,Jomsburg's sons shall not complain,Never shall the brave appearBound in slavery's shameful chain,Freedom ev'n in death is dear.Strike,Thorchill, strike! drive deep the blow,We joy to quit this world of woe;We rush to seize the seats above,And gain the warrior's meed of happiness and love."The destin'd hour at length is come,And vengeful heaven decrees the queen of cities' doom;No longer heaven withholds the avenging blowFrom those proud domes whenceBrutusfled;Where justChereabow'd his head,And proud oppression laid theGracchilow:In vain the timid slaves oppose,For freedom led their sinewy foes,For valour fled with liberty:Rome bows her lofty walls,The imperial city falls,"She falls—and lo, the world again is free!"
Loud was the hostile clang of arms,And hoarse the hollow sound,WhenPompeyscatter'd wild alarmsThe ravag'd East around,The crimson deluge dreadful dy'd the ground:An iron forest of destructive spearsRear'd their stern stems, where lateThe bending harvest wav'd its rustling ears:Rome, through the swarming gate,Pour'd her ambitious hosts to slaughter forth:Such was the will of fate!From the cold regions of the North,At length, on raven wings, shall vengeance come,And justice pour the urn of bitterness on Rome.
"Roman! ('twas thus the chief ofAsgardcry'd)AmbitiousRoman! triumph for a while;Trample on freedom in thy victor pride;Yet, though now thy fortune smile,ThoughMithridatesfly forlorn,Once thy dread, but now thy scorn,Odinwill never live a shameful slave;Some region will he yet explore,Beyond the reach of Rome;Where, upon some colder shore,Freedom yet thy force shall brave,Freedom yet shall find a home:There, where the eagle dares not soar,Soon shall the raven find a safe retreat.Asgard, farewell! farewell my native seat!Farewell for ever! yet, whilst life shall rollHer warm tide thro' thine injur'd chieftain's breast,Oft will he to thy memory drop the tear:Never more shallOdinrest,Never quaff the sportive bowl,Or soothe in peace his slothful soul,Whilst Rome triumphant lords it here.Triumph in thy victor might,Mock the chief ofAsgard's flight;But soon the seeds of vengeance shall be sown,AndOdin's race hurl down thy blood-cemented throne."
Nurtur'd by Scandinavia's hardy soil,Strong grew the vigorous plant;Danger could ne'er the nation daunt,For war, to other realms a toil,Was but the pastime here;Skill'd the bold youth to hurl the unerring spear,To wield the falchion, to direct the dart,Firm was each warrior's frame, yet gentle was his heart.
Freedom, with joy, beheld the noble race,And fill'd each bosom with her vivid fire;Nor vice, nor luxury, debaseThe free-born offspring of the free-born sire;There genuine poesy, in freedom bright,Diffus'd o'er all her clear, her all-enlivening light.
From Helicon's meandering rillsThe inspiring goddess fled;Amid the Scandinavian hillsIn clouds she hid her head;There the bold, the daring muse,Every daring warrior wooes;The sacred lust of deathless fameBurnt in every warrior's soul:"Whilst future ages hymn my name,(The son ofOdincries)I shall quaff the foaming bowlWith my forefathers in yon azure skies;Methinks I see my foeman's skullWith the mantling beverage full;I hear the shield-roof'd hall resoundTo martial music's echoing sound;I see the virgins, valour's meed,—Death is bliss—I rush to bleed."
See where the murdererEgillstands,He grasps the harp with skilful hands,And pours the soul-emoving tide of song;Mute admiration holds the listening throng:The royal sire forgets his murder'd son;Ericforgives; a thousand yearsTheir swift revolving course have run,Since thus the bard could check the father's tears,Could soothe his soul to peace,And never shall the fame ofEgillcease.
Dark was the dungeon, damp the ground,Beneath the reach of cheering day,WhereRegnerdying lay;Poisonous adders all aroundOn the expiring warrior hung,Yet the full stream of verse flow'd from his dauntless tongue:"We fought with swords," the warrior cry'd,"We fought with swords," he said—he dy'd.
Jomsburg lifts her lofty walls,Sparta revives on Scandinavia's shore;Undismay'd each hero falls,And scorns his death in terror to deplore."Strike,Thorchill, strike! drive deep the blow,Jomsburg's sons shall not complain,Never shall the brave appearBound in slavery's shameful chain,Freedom ev'n in death is dear.Strike,Thorchill, strike! drive deep the blow,We joy to quit this world of woe;We rush to seize the seats above,And gain the warrior's meed of happiness and love."
The destin'd hour at length is come,And vengeful heaven decrees the queen of cities' doom;No longer heaven withholds the avenging blowFrom those proud domes whenceBrutusfled;Where justChereabow'd his head,And proud oppression laid theGracchilow:In vain the timid slaves oppose,For freedom led their sinewy foes,For valour fled with liberty:Rome bows her lofty walls,The imperial city falls,"She falls—and lo, the world again is free!"
BION.
Vignette
Soul of my much-lov'dFreya! yes, I come!No pale disease's slow-consuming powerHas hasten'd on thy husband's hour;Nor pour'd by victor's thirsty handHasOdin's life bedew'd the land:I rush to meet thee by a self-will'd doom.No more my clattering iron carShall rush amid the throng of war;No more, obedient to my heavenly cause,Shall crimson conquest stamp hisOdin's laws.I go—I go;Yet shall the nations own my swayFar as yon orb shall dart his all-enlivening ray:Big is the death-fraught cloud of woeThat hangs, proud Rome, impending o'er thy wall,ForOdinshall avenge hisAsgard's fall.Thus burst fromOdin's lips the fated sound,As high in air he rear'd the gleaming blade;His faithful friends aroundIn silent wonder saw the scene, affray'd:He, unappall'd, towards the skiesUplifts his death-denouncing eyes;"Ope wideValhalla's shield-roof'd hall,Virgins of bliss! obey your master's call;From these injurious realms belowThe sire of nations hastes to go."Say, faulters now your chieftain's breath?Or chills pale terror now his death-like face?Then weep not,Thor, thy friend's approaching death,Let no unmanly tears disgraceThe first of mortal's valiant race:DauntlessHeimdal, mourn not now,Balder! clear thy cloudy brow;I go to happier realms above,To realms of friendship and of love.This unmanly grief dispelling,List to glory's rapturous call;So withOdinever dwelling,Meet him in the shield-roof'd hall:Still shallOdin's fateful lanceBefore his daring friends advance;When the bloody fight beginning,Helms and shields, and hauberks ringing,Streaming life each fatal woundPours its current on the ground;Still in clouds portentous ridingO'er his comrade host presiding.Odin, from the stormy air,O'er your affrighted foes shall scatter wild despair.'Mid the mighty din of battle,Whilst conflicting chariots rattle,Floods of purple slaughter streaming,Fate-fraught falchions widely gleaming;WhenMistamarks her destin'd prey,When dread and death deform the day;Happy he amid the strife,Who pours the current of his life;Every toil and trouble ending,Odinfrom his hall descending,Shall bear him to his blest retreat,Shall place him in the warrior's seat.Not such the destin'd joys that waitThe wretched dastard's future fate:Wild shrieks shall yell in every breath,—The agonizing shrieks of death.Adown his wan and livid faceBig drops their painful way shall trace;Each limb in that tremendous hourShall quiver in disease's power.GrimHelao'er his couch shall hang,Scoff at his groans, and point each pang;No Virgin Goddess him shall callTo join you in the shield-roof'd hall;No Valkery for him prepareThe smiling mead with lovely care:Sad and scorn'd the wretch shall lie,Despairing shriek—despairing die!No Scald in never-dying laysShall rear the temple of his praise;No Virgin in her vernal bloomBedew with tears his high-rear'd tomb;No Soldier sound his honor'd name;No song shall hand him down to fame;But rank weeds o'er the inglorious graveShall to the blast their high heads wave;And swept by time's strong stream away,He soon shall sink—oblivion's prey;And deep in Niflehim—dreary cell,Aye shall his sprite tormented dwell,Where grim Remorse for ever wakes,Where Anguish feeds her torturing snakes,Where Disappointment and DelayFor ever guard the doleful way;Amid the joyless land of woeKeen and bleak the chill blasts blow;Drives the tempest, pours the rain,Showers the hail with force amain;Yell the night-birds as they flyFlitting in the misty sky;Glows the adder, swells the toad,For sad isHela's cold abode.Spread then the Gothic banners to the sky,Lift your sable banners high;Yoke your coursers to the car,Strike the sounding shield of war;Go, my lov'd companions, goTrample on the opposing foe;Be like the raging torrent's force,That, rushing from the hills, speds on its foaming course.Haste, my sons, to war's alarms,Triumph in the clang of arms;Joy amid the warlike toil,Feed the raven with your spoil;Go, prepare the eagle's food,Go, and drench the wolf with blood,'Till ye shall hear darkHela's call,And virgins waft ye to my hall;There, wrapt in clouds, the shadowy throngTo airy combat glide along;'Till wearied with the friendly fight,Serimner's flesh recruits their might;There, whilst I grasp the Roman skull,With hydromel sweet-smiling full,The festive song shall echo round,The Scald repeat the deathless sound:Then,Thor, when thou from fight shall cease,When death shall lay that arm in peace,Still shall the nations fear thy nod,The first of warriors now, and then their god;But be each heart with rage possest,Let vengeance glow in every breast;Let conquest fell the Roman wall,Revenge on Rome myAsgard's fall.The Druid throng shall fall away,And sink beneath your victor sway;No more shall nations bow the knee,Vanquish'dTaranis, to thee;No more upon the sacred stone,Tentates, shall thy victims groan;The vanquish'dOdin, Rome, shall cause thy fall,And his destruction shake thy proud imperial wall.Yet, my faithful friends, bewareLuxury's enerving snare;'Twas this that shook ourAsgard's dome,That drove us from our native home;'Twas this that smooth'd the way for victor Rome:Gaul's fruitful plains invite your sway,Conquest points the destin'd way;Conquest shall attend your call,And your success shall gild still moreValhalla's hall.So spake the dauntless chief, and pierc'd his breast,Then rush'd to seize the seat of endless rest.
Soul of my much-lov'dFreya! yes, I come!No pale disease's slow-consuming powerHas hasten'd on thy husband's hour;Nor pour'd by victor's thirsty handHasOdin's life bedew'd the land:I rush to meet thee by a self-will'd doom.No more my clattering iron carShall rush amid the throng of war;No more, obedient to my heavenly cause,Shall crimson conquest stamp hisOdin's laws.I go—I go;Yet shall the nations own my swayFar as yon orb shall dart his all-enlivening ray:Big is the death-fraught cloud of woeThat hangs, proud Rome, impending o'er thy wall,ForOdinshall avenge hisAsgard's fall.
Thus burst fromOdin's lips the fated sound,As high in air he rear'd the gleaming blade;His faithful friends aroundIn silent wonder saw the scene, affray'd:He, unappall'd, towards the skiesUplifts his death-denouncing eyes;"Ope wideValhalla's shield-roof'd hall,Virgins of bliss! obey your master's call;From these injurious realms belowThe sire of nations hastes to go."
Say, faulters now your chieftain's breath?Or chills pale terror now his death-like face?Then weep not,Thor, thy friend's approaching death,Let no unmanly tears disgraceThe first of mortal's valiant race:DauntlessHeimdal, mourn not now,Balder! clear thy cloudy brow;I go to happier realms above,To realms of friendship and of love.
This unmanly grief dispelling,List to glory's rapturous call;So withOdinever dwelling,Meet him in the shield-roof'd hall:Still shallOdin's fateful lanceBefore his daring friends advance;When the bloody fight beginning,Helms and shields, and hauberks ringing,Streaming life each fatal woundPours its current on the ground;Still in clouds portentous ridingO'er his comrade host presiding.Odin, from the stormy air,O'er your affrighted foes shall scatter wild despair.
'Mid the mighty din of battle,Whilst conflicting chariots rattle,Floods of purple slaughter streaming,Fate-fraught falchions widely gleaming;WhenMistamarks her destin'd prey,When dread and death deform the day;Happy he amid the strife,Who pours the current of his life;Every toil and trouble ending,Odinfrom his hall descending,Shall bear him to his blest retreat,Shall place him in the warrior's seat.
Not such the destin'd joys that waitThe wretched dastard's future fate:Wild shrieks shall yell in every breath,—The agonizing shrieks of death.Adown his wan and livid faceBig drops their painful way shall trace;Each limb in that tremendous hourShall quiver in disease's power.GrimHelao'er his couch shall hang,Scoff at his groans, and point each pang;No Virgin Goddess him shall callTo join you in the shield-roof'd hall;No Valkery for him prepareThe smiling mead with lovely care:Sad and scorn'd the wretch shall lie,Despairing shriek—despairing die!No Scald in never-dying laysShall rear the temple of his praise;No Virgin in her vernal bloomBedew with tears his high-rear'd tomb;No Soldier sound his honor'd name;No song shall hand him down to fame;But rank weeds o'er the inglorious graveShall to the blast their high heads wave;And swept by time's strong stream away,He soon shall sink—oblivion's prey;And deep in Niflehim—dreary cell,Aye shall his sprite tormented dwell,Where grim Remorse for ever wakes,Where Anguish feeds her torturing snakes,Where Disappointment and DelayFor ever guard the doleful way;Amid the joyless land of woeKeen and bleak the chill blasts blow;Drives the tempest, pours the rain,Showers the hail with force amain;Yell the night-birds as they flyFlitting in the misty sky;Glows the adder, swells the toad,For sad isHela's cold abode.
Spread then the Gothic banners to the sky,Lift your sable banners high;Yoke your coursers to the car,Strike the sounding shield of war;Go, my lov'd companions, goTrample on the opposing foe;Be like the raging torrent's force,That, rushing from the hills, speds on its foaming course.
Haste, my sons, to war's alarms,Triumph in the clang of arms;Joy amid the warlike toil,Feed the raven with your spoil;Go, prepare the eagle's food,Go, and drench the wolf with blood,'Till ye shall hear darkHela's call,And virgins waft ye to my hall;There, wrapt in clouds, the shadowy throngTo airy combat glide along;'Till wearied with the friendly fight,Serimner's flesh recruits their might;There, whilst I grasp the Roman skull,With hydromel sweet-smiling full,The festive song shall echo round,The Scald repeat the deathless sound:Then,Thor, when thou from fight shall cease,When death shall lay that arm in peace,Still shall the nations fear thy nod,The first of warriors now, and then their god;But be each heart with rage possest,Let vengeance glow in every breast;Let conquest fell the Roman wall,Revenge on Rome myAsgard's fall.
The Druid throng shall fall away,And sink beneath your victor sway;No more shall nations bow the knee,Vanquish'dTaranis, to thee;No more upon the sacred stone,Tentates, shall thy victims groan;The vanquish'dOdin, Rome, shall cause thy fall,And his destruction shake thy proud imperial wall.
Yet, my faithful friends, bewareLuxury's enerving snare;'Twas this that shook ourAsgard's dome,That drove us from our native home;'Twas this that smooth'd the way for victor Rome:Gaul's fruitful plains invite your sway,Conquest points the destin'd way;Conquest shall attend your call,And your success shall gild still moreValhalla's hall.
So spake the dauntless chief, and pierc'd his breast,Then rush'd to seize the seat of endless rest.
BION.
Vignette
Israel, my hour is come!Borne on the wings of timeDeath marks his destin'd prey.Now in the fullness of my age,Ere faint my shrunken limbs wax weak,Ere dim my rayless eye,Of years and honours full, I seek the tomb.Offspring ofAbram,Moses' guardian voiceNo more shall breathe the willOf your protecting God.For not to me is givenOn Canaan's promis'd landAt last to rest in peace:For not to me is givenO'er Jordan's barrier floodTo reach the abundant clime:On Moab's pathless plainsMustMosesrest in peace.When wandering o'er the desert wilds of ZinFaint grew your parched frames,Then Israel sinn'd against theGodof Hosts.Have ye forgot the hourWhen murmuring Anger buzz'dAlong the busy tents?Have ye forgot the hourWhen, bold in secrecy,Sedition's impious feetStole on from tent to tent?Then Israel sinn'd against theGodof Hosts:On me his vengeance fell.Twas there whereMiriamdied,Where o'er a sister's corseI rear'd in grief the monumental stone.'Twas then, the prophet's ardour lost,I felt the brother's grief:For Memory's painful gratitude recall'dThe succourMiriamgave,The succourMiriamgaveWhen haven'd on the sedgy banks of NileRepos'd my infant ark.I call'd to mind her care;I call'd to mind her love;How sweetly soft she touch'd the lute,How graceful moved amid the dance.Sedition's impious feetStole on from tent to tent,Till, boldened by success,Aloud the Fury lifts her daring voice."Why,Moses, did thy treach'rous artLead us from Egypt's fertile clime,Amid these pathless wildsTo sink, wan Famine's prey?Amid these pathless wilds,Where even nature dies!For here no seeds enrich the earth,No fig-tree spreads its grateful shade,No vine depends its cluster'd boughs,Nor frigid fountain windsIts murmuring course along.Our parch'd frames sink—We die for thirst."'Twas thus, blaspheming Heaven, ye spake:—Heaven burst in twain by me the rock;The spring rush'd forth."But never,Moses, shall thy feetPossess the promis'd land:"For Israel sinn'd against theGodof Hosts:On me his vengeance fell.From Nebo's mountain topI view'd the promis'd land;O'er Palestine's luxuriant soilI cast the eagle ken.Far as the distant ocean's shore,O'er Gilead's fertile soil I gaz'd:The southward plains I saw,And Jericho's rich plain,Where, bower'd in palm trees, rise her lofty towers.Blest areAbram's favour'd race,Blest above the sons of men;For their's are Canaan's fertile lands,For their's the aid of Heav'n.From stern Oppression's tyrant sway,From ignominy, bonds, and death,Heaven led the people forth.Thro' pathless deserts wild and waste,Thro' the wide wilderness of dearth,Where desolation blasted all around,Heaven led the people forth.E'en as the eagle's parent careHangs o'er the lofty nest;And flutters fondly o'er her young,And spreads her guardian wings,And leads them from the eyry forth,And bids them face the sun.Offspring of Israel! have your thankless heartsForgot the bounteous gifts of Heaven?When frighted ocean stopt his waves,And rushing seas stood still?Have ye forgot the firesThat led your nightly march?Forgot the heavenly foodThat fell like evening dew,For Israel's chosen race?Oh! write his mercies on your hearts,Treasure his bounties in your soul;Obey the will of Heaven.Sons of my care! to you, from highest heaven,Jeshurun'sGodhas spoke.By me JEHOVAH gave the words of life:Observe his sacred laws,And fly the snares which superstition spreads.FlyMoloch's horrid rites,Astarte's orgies lewd,AndThammuz' annual dirge,AndChemos' wanton wiles.IsSittim's field forgot?Forgot the fatal hour when thousands fell;And Heaven's avenging armHurl'd down the shafts of death?For then inChemos' wanton ritesThe sons of Israel join'd;And caught the harlot's melting eye,And gave the soul to love.Then, subdued by syren pleasure,Captive reason bow'd to beauty;Forgot the laws of God!Forgot avenging Heaven:—For woman's mildly-melting eyeThrill'd through the soften'd soul.ThenZimridied:ThenCozbi's voice,That stole resistless o'er the Hebrew's heart,In vain for pity pray'd.The zealous priest arose;E'en thro' her lover's breastHe pierc'd the lovely fair idolater.Blest,Phineas, be thy name;Blest be thy heart of adamantine faith,That spurn'd the woman's prayer.Israel, be thine to shunAlluring beauty's wiles,To fly the melting glanceThe loosely-languid look.'Tis thine to wreak the wrath of Heaven;'Tis thine to lift aloft the sword,Lay low the despot chiefs,Lay low the lofty tow'r's.Let the despots assemble their hosts,Let them marshall their thousands in pride;Let the offspring ofAnakariseFrom Jericho's palm-bower'd throne,And Aï and Solyma's towers.Let them rush from their mountains to war,Let them cover the valley with arms,For JEHOVAH will war for his sons.Low Aï's walls shall lie;Devouring flames shall wasteHuge Hazor's strength to dust.Of Jericho's tall towersNo relics shall remain.There shall the pilgrim, tempest-torn,When on the light'ning flash Destruction rides,In vain for shelter seek.O'er ruin'd palaces the fox shall roam;Amid the desert halls,Where once was spread the feast,Where once was heard the song,Now shall the wild wolf's howl resound;Now build the bird obscene her secret nest.Yet, from the storm of war reserv'd,With added strength Jerusalem shall rise,The city of your God!To guard her favour'd tow'rsShall Heaven protecting spread th' immortal shield:Her trees with honey ooze,Her rivers flow with milk.There, Israel, shall the fig-tree bendTo you its laden boughs;There shall the cluster'd vine expandIts wildly-wanton arms.O'erMoses' clayey corseDrop ye the grateful tear,And hide his relics in the narrow house.O'er Jordan then rush for the prize;Spread terror o'er Canaan afar,And triumphantly fight for theLord.
Israel, my hour is come!Borne on the wings of timeDeath marks his destin'd prey.Now in the fullness of my age,Ere faint my shrunken limbs wax weak,Ere dim my rayless eye,Of years and honours full, I seek the tomb.
Offspring ofAbram,Moses' guardian voiceNo more shall breathe the willOf your protecting God.For not to me is givenOn Canaan's promis'd landAt last to rest in peace:For not to me is givenO'er Jordan's barrier floodTo reach the abundant clime:On Moab's pathless plainsMustMosesrest in peace.
When wandering o'er the desert wilds of ZinFaint grew your parched frames,Then Israel sinn'd against theGodof Hosts.Have ye forgot the hourWhen murmuring Anger buzz'dAlong the busy tents?Have ye forgot the hourWhen, bold in secrecy,Sedition's impious feetStole on from tent to tent?Then Israel sinn'd against theGodof Hosts:On me his vengeance fell.Twas there whereMiriamdied,Where o'er a sister's corseI rear'd in grief the monumental stone.
'Twas then, the prophet's ardour lost,I felt the brother's grief:For Memory's painful gratitude recall'dThe succourMiriamgave,The succourMiriamgaveWhen haven'd on the sedgy banks of NileRepos'd my infant ark.I call'd to mind her care;I call'd to mind her love;How sweetly soft she touch'd the lute,How graceful moved amid the dance.Sedition's impious feetStole on from tent to tent,Till, boldened by success,Aloud the Fury lifts her daring voice.
"Why,Moses, did thy treach'rous artLead us from Egypt's fertile clime,Amid these pathless wildsTo sink, wan Famine's prey?Amid these pathless wilds,Where even nature dies!For here no seeds enrich the earth,No fig-tree spreads its grateful shade,No vine depends its cluster'd boughs,Nor frigid fountain windsIts murmuring course along.Our parch'd frames sink—We die for thirst."
'Twas thus, blaspheming Heaven, ye spake:—Heaven burst in twain by me the rock;The spring rush'd forth."But never,Moses, shall thy feetPossess the promis'd land:"For Israel sinn'd against theGodof Hosts:On me his vengeance fell.From Nebo's mountain topI view'd the promis'd land;O'er Palestine's luxuriant soilI cast the eagle ken.Far as the distant ocean's shore,O'er Gilead's fertile soil I gaz'd:The southward plains I saw,And Jericho's rich plain,Where, bower'd in palm trees, rise her lofty towers.
Blest areAbram's favour'd race,Blest above the sons of men;For their's are Canaan's fertile lands,For their's the aid of Heav'n.From stern Oppression's tyrant sway,From ignominy, bonds, and death,Heaven led the people forth.Thro' pathless deserts wild and waste,Thro' the wide wilderness of dearth,Where desolation blasted all around,Heaven led the people forth.E'en as the eagle's parent careHangs o'er the lofty nest;And flutters fondly o'er her young,And spreads her guardian wings,And leads them from the eyry forth,And bids them face the sun.
Offspring of Israel! have your thankless heartsForgot the bounteous gifts of Heaven?When frighted ocean stopt his waves,And rushing seas stood still?Have ye forgot the firesThat led your nightly march?Forgot the heavenly foodThat fell like evening dew,For Israel's chosen race?Oh! write his mercies on your hearts,Treasure his bounties in your soul;Obey the will of Heaven.
Sons of my care! to you, from highest heaven,Jeshurun'sGodhas spoke.By me JEHOVAH gave the words of life:Observe his sacred laws,And fly the snares which superstition spreads.FlyMoloch's horrid rites,Astarte's orgies lewd,AndThammuz' annual dirge,AndChemos' wanton wiles.
IsSittim's field forgot?Forgot the fatal hour when thousands fell;And Heaven's avenging armHurl'd down the shafts of death?
For then inChemos' wanton ritesThe sons of Israel join'd;And caught the harlot's melting eye,And gave the soul to love.Then, subdued by syren pleasure,Captive reason bow'd to beauty;Forgot the laws of God!Forgot avenging Heaven:—For woman's mildly-melting eyeThrill'd through the soften'd soul.
ThenZimridied:ThenCozbi's voice,That stole resistless o'er the Hebrew's heart,In vain for pity pray'd.The zealous priest arose;E'en thro' her lover's breastHe pierc'd the lovely fair idolater.
Blest,Phineas, be thy name;Blest be thy heart of adamantine faith,That spurn'd the woman's prayer.
Israel, be thine to shunAlluring beauty's wiles,To fly the melting glanceThe loosely-languid look.'Tis thine to wreak the wrath of Heaven;'Tis thine to lift aloft the sword,Lay low the despot chiefs,Lay low the lofty tow'r's.
Let the despots assemble their hosts,Let them marshall their thousands in pride;Let the offspring ofAnakariseFrom Jericho's palm-bower'd throne,And Aï and Solyma's towers.Let them rush from their mountains to war,Let them cover the valley with arms,For JEHOVAH will war for his sons.
Low Aï's walls shall lie;Devouring flames shall wasteHuge Hazor's strength to dust.Of Jericho's tall towersNo relics shall remain.There shall the pilgrim, tempest-torn,When on the light'ning flash Destruction rides,In vain for shelter seek.O'er ruin'd palaces the fox shall roam;Amid the desert halls,Where once was spread the feast,Where once was heard the song,Now shall the wild wolf's howl resound;Now build the bird obscene her secret nest.
Yet, from the storm of war reserv'd,With added strength Jerusalem shall rise,The city of your God!To guard her favour'd tow'rsShall Heaven protecting spread th' immortal shield:Her trees with honey ooze,Her rivers flow with milk.There, Israel, shall the fig-tree bendTo you its laden boughs;There shall the cluster'd vine expandIts wildly-wanton arms.
O'erMoses' clayey corseDrop ye the grateful tear,And hide his relics in the narrow house.O'er Jordan then rush for the prize;Spread terror o'er Canaan afar,And triumphantly fight for theLord.
Vignette
Sons of my age, attend;Come round the bed of death,Ere yet his cold damp dewsExtinguish life's weak flame.ForMattathias' arm no moreShall scatter terror o'er the hostOf Israel's foes.Now triumphant Pride disdainfulLifts elate his royal head;Lawless Might and ruffian RapineStalk o'er Israel uncontroul'd.JEHOVAH hides his face,And stern Destruction shakes the spear;Wide-wasting Vengeance pours the show'r of death—JEHOVAH hides his face.Now, then, my sons be firm;Be like the mighty rock,Against whose foot the wavesFor ever dash in vain.Now, then, in your God confiding,Lift the sword, and break the shield:Look upon your great forefathers,Call each long-past deed to view;Let remembrance fire your souls—Lift the sword, and break the shield.On Moriah mount is laidThe father's only child!DownAbraham's aged cheekRoll'd the paternal tear;The big sob spoke his grief,And nature rived his heart, but rived in vain—For faith prevail'd.He rear'd the pile,He bound the silent child;The child whose silence spokeMost moving eloquence.Nor did notAbrahamfeelThe father's mighty grief,Nor paint the wretched mother's woe-fraught cries;Nor did he not perceiveThe deadly blow more deep would rive his heart:Yet faith prevail'd—He lifts the knife of sacrifice!JEHOVAH saw and saved.O'erJoseph's robe, bedied with guileful blood,The aged patriarch wept:He rear'd the fancied tomb,And tore his hoary locks,Yet bow'd resign'd to Heaven's high will.Meantime, in foreign land,Josephforgot not God.Vice, her tinsel charms displaying,Vainly sought to melt his mind;Vainly plann'd the wile deceitful,Seeking soft to sooth the soul,To sooth the soul to sin.He saw the languid eye,The breast that heav'd with love;White as the new-fall'n snow,Unchill'd by modesty.Her hot grasp seiz'd his arms:He fled—And when seducing pleasure to his lipsHeld forth the honey'd draught,He dash'd the poison down.Nor Heaven, all-just, withheld relief:He mark'd the father's woe,He lov'd the virtuous child;AndJosephclos'd in peace the patriarch's eyes.Hark! the hurtling din of battle!Clanging shields and biting falchionsRend the air with fearful terror.Joshualeads the war:His voice controuls the orbs of heaven!The sun stood still,The moon obedient held her chariot back;Then fell the royal power.To Makkedah's dark cave the monarchs fled;Upon the fatal treeThey wave with every wind.Round Jericho was borne the mystick ark,Was blown the blairing blast;Proud on the blairing blastTriumphant ruin rode.From their foundations hurl'd,The mighty bulwarks load the ground.By prodigies announc'd, ere yetRank'd in existence roll,Manoah's offspring tow'rs in giant strength:His crisp locks wave amid the wind,His crisped hair of strength.On rushes Philistia's host,They environ the warrior unarm'd;He grasps the jaw-bone in his hand,He levels their thousands in death.Fatigued with deeds of death,The victor's limbs relax,His parch'd mouth gapes with thirst;Heaven saw and sent relief,And from the wondrous weapon flow'd the spring.By Cherith's hidden stream recluse,The faithful prophet lay;He drank the running brook,The ravens brought the due supply.Firm in the path of faithThrough lifeElijahtrod.Nor through the narrow portals of the graveHe past to realms of bliss;For ravish'd in the car of flames,He fled the gate of death;Thus mortal rapt to immortality.High from his lofty throneThe impious tyrant cries,"Fall down, ye men of earth,Revere the image of your King and God."Faith stood firm."Heap the fierce furnace high,"(The angry despot cries)"Fan the red flames till the hot furnace pales,Sick'ning itself with heat."The fire flames fierce!Amid the pallid flamesThe faithful friends are hurl'd!But blasted fall the slaves,The slaves of tyranny:Godstretch'd the robe of preservation forth,And mantled o'er his sons.Amid the lions hurl'd,In conscious faith serene the prophet lay.NorDanielknew to fear,Nor did his pale limbs quiver with affright;He dar'd forGodto die,And Heaven, for ever good, preserv'd the seer:The gaunt beasts, famine-fall'n,Creep at his feet, and suppliant lick his hand.Sons of my age, look back;Call up the shadowy scenesOf ages now no more:For never, since yon font of lightFirst shed the new-born stream,For never, since the breath of lifeBreath'd through the realms of space,Has Virtue trusted in her god in vain.Amid the storm serene she goes,Nor heeds black Malice' sharpest shafts,Nor Envy's venom'd tooth;The warring winds roar round her head,Nor knows the constant maid to fear,But lifts her looks toGod.Not 'till the sun, for ever quench'd,In darkness cease to shine;'Till nature feel no more the breathOf life pervade her frame;'Till Time himself expir'dSink in eternity,Shall Faith be firm in vain.Now then, indeed, be men,Grasp firm the shield of Faith,Lift high the sword of Hope,Nor fear yon haughty tyrant's impious vaunts;To-day elate he stalks,Lifts his tiared brows,Self-deem'd a more than man:To-morrow, fall'n in dust,Food for the worm corrupt,Sunk to primeval nothing, low he lies.And, sometimes, when your lips repeat the deedsYour forefathers achiev'd,Of me the meanest think, not wholly mean:LetMattathias' nameFull-fill your souls with fire,Recal that hour to viewWhen this indignant handDrench'd deep my dagger in apostate blood.Even at the altar's footThe tyrant chief I stabb'd,I hurl'd the altar down.Nor then, in sacred sloth subdued,Upon the sabbath fell we unreveng'd.We serv'd our God in fight,We sacrific'd his foes,We pray'd amid the war.Then through these limbs burnt highIndignant valour's flame;Then glow'd the lamp of life,Now pale and wavering as the dews of death,Slow quench its fading light.Godof my fathers, thou hast seen my lifeWorn in defence of thee;Thou hast beheld me firm in danger's face,Maintain thy holy cause,Amid embattled hostsDefend thy mystic rites.Now to the unknown world,Unchill'd by fear, I sink;And whilst my chilly limbs grow faint,Whilst Death's dull mists bedim my eye,Hope lifts my soul to thee.
Sons of my age, attend;Come round the bed of death,Ere yet his cold damp dewsExtinguish life's weak flame.
ForMattathias' arm no moreShall scatter terror o'er the hostOf Israel's foes.Now triumphant Pride disdainfulLifts elate his royal head;Lawless Might and ruffian RapineStalk o'er Israel uncontroul'd.JEHOVAH hides his face,And stern Destruction shakes the spear;Wide-wasting Vengeance pours the show'r of death—JEHOVAH hides his face.
Now, then, my sons be firm;Be like the mighty rock,Against whose foot the wavesFor ever dash in vain.Now, then, in your God confiding,Lift the sword, and break the shield:Look upon your great forefathers,Call each long-past deed to view;Let remembrance fire your souls—Lift the sword, and break the shield.
On Moriah mount is laidThe father's only child!DownAbraham's aged cheekRoll'd the paternal tear;The big sob spoke his grief,And nature rived his heart, but rived in vain—For faith prevail'd.He rear'd the pile,He bound the silent child;The child whose silence spokeMost moving eloquence.Nor did notAbrahamfeelThe father's mighty grief,Nor paint the wretched mother's woe-fraught cries;Nor did he not perceiveThe deadly blow more deep would rive his heart:Yet faith prevail'd—He lifts the knife of sacrifice!JEHOVAH saw and saved.
O'erJoseph's robe, bedied with guileful blood,The aged patriarch wept:He rear'd the fancied tomb,And tore his hoary locks,Yet bow'd resign'd to Heaven's high will.Meantime, in foreign land,Josephforgot not God.Vice, her tinsel charms displaying,Vainly sought to melt his mind;Vainly plann'd the wile deceitful,Seeking soft to sooth the soul,To sooth the soul to sin.He saw the languid eye,The breast that heav'd with love;White as the new-fall'n snow,Unchill'd by modesty.Her hot grasp seiz'd his arms:He fled—And when seducing pleasure to his lipsHeld forth the honey'd draught,He dash'd the poison down.Nor Heaven, all-just, withheld relief:He mark'd the father's woe,He lov'd the virtuous child;AndJosephclos'd in peace the patriarch's eyes.
Hark! the hurtling din of battle!Clanging shields and biting falchionsRend the air with fearful terror.Joshualeads the war:His voice controuls the orbs of heaven!The sun stood still,The moon obedient held her chariot back;Then fell the royal power.To Makkedah's dark cave the monarchs fled;Upon the fatal treeThey wave with every wind.Round Jericho was borne the mystick ark,Was blown the blairing blast;Proud on the blairing blastTriumphant ruin rode.From their foundations hurl'd,The mighty bulwarks load the ground.
By prodigies announc'd, ere yetRank'd in existence roll,Manoah's offspring tow'rs in giant strength:His crisp locks wave amid the wind,His crisped hair of strength.On rushes Philistia's host,They environ the warrior unarm'd;He grasps the jaw-bone in his hand,He levels their thousands in death.Fatigued with deeds of death,The victor's limbs relax,His parch'd mouth gapes with thirst;Heaven saw and sent relief,And from the wondrous weapon flow'd the spring.
By Cherith's hidden stream recluse,The faithful prophet lay;He drank the running brook,The ravens brought the due supply.Firm in the path of faithThrough lifeElijahtrod.Nor through the narrow portals of the graveHe past to realms of bliss;For ravish'd in the car of flames,He fled the gate of death;Thus mortal rapt to immortality.
High from his lofty throneThe impious tyrant cries,"Fall down, ye men of earth,Revere the image of your King and God."Faith stood firm."Heap the fierce furnace high,"(The angry despot cries)"Fan the red flames till the hot furnace pales,Sick'ning itself with heat."The fire flames fierce!Amid the pallid flamesThe faithful friends are hurl'd!But blasted fall the slaves,The slaves of tyranny:Godstretch'd the robe of preservation forth,And mantled o'er his sons.
Amid the lions hurl'd,In conscious faith serene the prophet lay.NorDanielknew to fear,Nor did his pale limbs quiver with affright;He dar'd forGodto die,And Heaven, for ever good, preserv'd the seer:The gaunt beasts, famine-fall'n,Creep at his feet, and suppliant lick his hand.
Sons of my age, look back;Call up the shadowy scenesOf ages now no more:For never, since yon font of lightFirst shed the new-born stream,For never, since the breath of lifeBreath'd through the realms of space,Has Virtue trusted in her god in vain.Amid the storm serene she goes,Nor heeds black Malice' sharpest shafts,Nor Envy's venom'd tooth;The warring winds roar round her head,Nor knows the constant maid to fear,But lifts her looks toGod.Not 'till the sun, for ever quench'd,In darkness cease to shine;'Till nature feel no more the breathOf life pervade her frame;'Till Time himself expir'dSink in eternity,Shall Faith be firm in vain.
Now then, indeed, be men,Grasp firm the shield of Faith,Lift high the sword of Hope,Nor fear yon haughty tyrant's impious vaunts;To-day elate he stalks,Lifts his tiared brows,Self-deem'd a more than man:To-morrow, fall'n in dust,Food for the worm corrupt,Sunk to primeval nothing, low he lies.
And, sometimes, when your lips repeat the deedsYour forefathers achiev'd,Of me the meanest think, not wholly mean:LetMattathias' nameFull-fill your souls with fire,Recal that hour to viewWhen this indignant handDrench'd deep my dagger in apostate blood.Even at the altar's footThe tyrant chief I stabb'd,I hurl'd the altar down.
Nor then, in sacred sloth subdued,Upon the sabbath fell we unreveng'd.We serv'd our God in fight,We sacrific'd his foes,We pray'd amid the war.Then through these limbs burnt highIndignant valour's flame;Then glow'd the lamp of life,Now pale and wavering as the dews of death,Slow quench its fading light.
Godof my fathers, thou hast seen my lifeWorn in defence of thee;Thou hast beheld me firm in danger's face,Maintain thy holy cause,Amid embattled hostsDefend thy mystic rites.Now to the unknown world,Unchill'd by fear, I sink;And whilst my chilly limbs grow faint,Whilst Death's dull mists bedim my eye,Hope lifts my soul to thee.
Finis
Proposals for publishing by Subscription,
JOAN of ARC,AN EPIC POEM,
By ROBERT SOUTHEY,Of Balliol College, Oxford.
To be handsomely printed in One Volume Quarto, priceOne Guinea, to be paid on delivery. Subscriptions will be received by Mr.C. Dilly, Poultry, London; by the Booksellers of Oxford, Cambridge, and Bath.
To be handsomely printed in One Volume Quarto, priceOne Guinea, to be paid on delivery. Subscriptions will be received by Mr.C. Dilly, Poultry, London; by the Booksellers of Oxford, Cambridge, and Bath.
Robert LovellRobert SoutheyPoems1795Woodstock BooksOtley. Washington D.C.2000This edition first published 2000 byWoodstock BooksOtley, West YorkshireEngland LS21 3JPandBooks InternationalPO Box 605, HerndonVA 20172, U.S.A.isbn1 85477 239 2Introduction copyright © 2000 Jonathan WordsworthBritish Library Cataloguing-in-Publication DataA catalogue record for this book isavailable from the British LibraryLibrary of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Dataapplied forPrinted and bound in England bySmith SettleOtley LS21 3JP
Robert LovellRobert Southey
Poems
1795
Woodstock BooksOtley. Washington D.C.2000
This edition first published 2000 byWoodstock BooksOtley, West YorkshireEngland LS21 3JPandBooks InternationalPO Box 605, HerndonVA 20172, U.S.A.
isbn1 85477 239 2Introduction copyright © 2000 Jonathan Wordsworth
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication DataA catalogue record for this book isavailable from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Dataapplied for
Printed and bound in England bySmith SettleOtley LS21 3JP