ePub 版


Its gifts, transferring fame as fleeting too! And caught its tone with Death's prophetic
In pride of place” here last the eagle flew,
Then tore with bloody talon the rent plain, And when they smiled because he deem'd it
Pierced by the shaft of banded nations


His heart more truly knew that peal too well Ambition's life and labours all were vain; Which stretch'd his father on a bloody bier, He wears the shatter'd links of the world's And roused the vengeance blood alone could broken chain.


He rush'd into the field, and, foremost fightFit retribution! Gaul may champ the bit

ing, fell. And foam in fetters ;—but is Earth more free? Did nations combat to make One submit; Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, Or league to teach all kings true sovereignty? | And gathering tears, and tremblings of disWhat! shall reviving Thraldom again be

tress, The patch’d-up idol of enlighten'd days? And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Shall we, who struck the Lion down, shall we Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness; Pay the Wolf homage proffering lowly And there were sudden partings, such as gaze

press And servile knees to thrones? No; prove The life from out young hearts, and choking before ye praise !


Which ne'er might be repeated; who could If not, o'er one fallen despot boast no more!

guess In vain fair cheeks were furrow'd with hot If ever more should meet those mutual eyes,


Since upon nights so sweet such awful morn For Europe's flowers long rooted up before

could rise ? The trampler of her vineyards; in vain years Of death, depopulation, bondage, fears, And there was mounting in hot haste: the Have all been borne, and broken by the

steed, accord

The mustering squadron, and the clattering Of roused-up millions : all that most endears

car, Glory, is when the myrtle wreathes a sword Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, Such as Harmodius drew on Athens' tyrant And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;


And the deep thunder peal on peal afar;

And near, the beat of the alarming drum There was a sound of revelry by night, Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; And Belgium's capital had gather'd then While throng'd the citizens with terror Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright

dumb, The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave Or whispering, with white lips—“The foe! men;

They come! they come!" A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, And wild and high the “Cameron's gatheSoft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake

ring” rose! again,

The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's And all went merry as a marriage-bell;

hills But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon rising knell!

foes :

How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Did ye not hearit?-No; 'twas but the wind, Savage and shrill! But with the breath Or the car rattling o'er the stony street;

which fills On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountNo sleep till morn when Youth and Pleasure

aineers meet

With the fierce native daring which instils To chase the glowing Hours with flying The stirring memory of a thousand years,


And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each But, hark !—that heavy sound breaks in once

clansman's ears! more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And Ardennes waves above them her green And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!

leaves, Arm! Arm! it is-it is—the cannon's open- Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass,

ing roar!

Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,

Over the unreturning brave---alas! Within a window'd niche of that high hall Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain ; he did Which now beneath them, but above shall hear

grow That sound the first amidst the festival, In its next verdure, when this fiery mass



Of living valour, rolling on the foe The tree will wither long before it fall; And burning with high hope, shall moulder The hull drives on, though mast and sail be cold and low.


The roof-tree sinks, but moulders on the hall Last noon heheld them full of lusty life, In massy hoariness; the ruin'd wall Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, Stands when its wind- l-worn battlements are The midnight bronght the signal-sound of

gone; strife,

The bars survive the captive they enthral ; The morn the marshalling in arms,—the day The day drags through though storms keep Battle's magnificently-stern array!

out the sun; The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly rent

live on : The earth is cover'd thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover, heap'd and Even as a broken mirror, which the glass pent,

In every fragment multiplies; and makes Rider and horse,-friend, foe,~in one red A thousand images of one that was, burial blent!

The same, and still the more, the more it

breaks; Their praise is hymn'd by loftier harps than And thus the heart will do which not forsakes, mine;

Living in shatter'd guise, and still, and cold, Yet one I would select from that proud And bloodles, with its sleepless sorrow aches, throng,

Yet withers on till all without is old, Partly because they blend me with his line, Shewing no visible sign, for such things are And partly that I did his sire some wrong,

untold. And partly that bright names will hallow song ;

There is a very life in our despair, And his was of the bravest, and when Vitality of poison,-a quick root shower'd

Which feeds these deadly branches; for it The death-bolts deadliest the thinn'd files along,

As nothing did we die; but Life will suit Even where the thickest of war's tempest Itself to Sorrow's most detested fruit, lower'd,

Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore, They reach'd no nobler breast than thine, All ashes to the taste : Did man compute young, gallant Howard ! Existence by enjoyment, and count o’er

Such hours 'gainst years of life,-say, would There have been tears and breaking hearts

he name three-score? for thee, And mine were nothing, had I such to give; The Psalmist number'd out the years of man: But when I stood beneath the fresh green They are enough; and if thy tale be true, tree,

Thou, who didst grudge him even that fleetWhich living waves where thou didst cease

ing span, to live,

More than enough, thou fatal Waterloo ! And saw around me the wide field revive Millions of tongues record thee, and anew With fruits and fertile promise, and the Their children's lips shall echo them, and Spring

sayCome forth her work of gladness to contrive, “Here, where the sword united nations drew, With all her reckless birds upon the wing, “Our countrymen were warring on that day!' I turn'd from all she brought to those she And this is much, and all which will not could not bring

pass away. I turn'd to thee, to thousands, of whom each There sunk the greatest, nor the worstof men, And one as all a ghastly gap did make Whose spirit antithetically mixt la his own kind and kindred, whom to teach One moment of the mightiest, and again Forgetfulness were mercy for their sake; On little objects with like firmness fixt, The Archangel's trump, not Glory's, must Extreme in all things! hadst thou been beawake

twixt; Those whom they thirst for; though the Thy throne had still been thine, or never sound of Fame

been; May for a moment soothe, it cannot slake For daring made thy rise as fall: thou seek'st The fever of vain longing, and the name Even now to re-assume the imperial mien, So honour'd but assumes a stronger, bitterer And shake again the world, the Thunderer claim.

of the scene!


They snourn, but smile at length; and, Conqueror and captive of the earth art thou!

miling, mourn: She trembles at thee still, and thy wild name


Was ne'er more bruited in men's minds than | But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell,

And there hath been thy bane; there is a fire That thou art nothing, save the jest of Fame, And motion of the soul which will not dwell Who woo'd thee once, thy vassal, and became In its own narrow being, but aspire The flatterer of thy fierceness, till thou Beyond the fitting medium of desire ;


And, but once kindled, quenchless evermore, A god unto thyself; nor less the same Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire To the astounded kingdoms all inert, Of aught but rest; a fever at the core, Who deem'd tliee for a time whate'er thou Fatal to him who bears, to all who ever didst assert.



of war,

Oh, more or less than man- -in high or low, This makes the madmen who have made men Battling with nations, flying from the field;

mad Now making monarchs' necks thy footstool, By their contagion; Conquerors and Kings,

Founders of sects and systems, to whom add More than thy meanest soldier taught to Sophists, Bards, Statesmen , all unquiet yield;

things An empire thou couldst crush, command, Which stir too strongly the soul's secret rebuild,

springs, But govern not thy pettiest passion, nor, And are themselves the fools to those they However deeply in men's spirits skill'd,

fool; Look through thine own, nor curb the lust Envied, yet how unenviable! what stings

Are theirs! One breast laid open were a Nor learn that tempted Fate will leave the

school loftiest star. Which would unteach mankind the lust to

shine or rule: Yet well thy soul hath brook'd thc turning


Their breath is agitation, and their life With that untaught innate philosophy, A storm whereon they ride, to sink at last, Which, be it wisdom, coldness, or deep pride, And yet so nursed and bigoted to strife, Is gall' and wormwood to an enemy. That should their days, surviving perils past, When the whole host of hatred stood hard by, Melt to calm twilight, they feel overcast To watch and mock thee shrinking, thou hast With sorrow and supineness, and so die;


Even as a flame unfed, which runs to waste With a sedate and all-enduring eye;- With its own flickering, or a sword laid by When Fortune fled her spoild and favourite Whicheats into itself, and rusts ingloriously.

child, He stood unbow'd beneath the ills upon him He who ascends to mountain-tops, shall find

The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and

Sager than in thy fortunes; for in them He who surpasses or subdues mankind,
Ambition steeld thee on too far to show Must look down on the hate of those below.
That just habitual scorn which could Though high above the sun of glory glow,

And far beneath the earth and ocean spread, Men and their thoughts; 'twas wise to feel, Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow

Contending tempests on his naked head, To wear it ever on thy lip and brow, And thus reward the toils which to those And spurn the instruments thou wert to use

summits led. Till they were turn’d unto thine overthrow : Tis but a worthless world to win or lose; Away with these! true wisdom's world will be So hath it proved to thee, and all such lot Within its own creation, or in thine,

who choose.

Maternal Nature! for who teems like thee,

Thus on the banks of thy majestic Rhine? If, like a tower upon a headlong rock, There Harold gazes on a work divine, Thou hadst been made to stand or fall alone, A blending of all beauties; streams and Such scorn of man had help'd to brave the

dells, shock;

Fruit, foliage, crag, wood, corn-field, But men's thoughts were the steps which

mountain, vine, paved thy throne, And chiefless castles breathing stern fareTheir admiration thy best weapon shone;

wells The part of Philip's son was thine, not then From gray but leafy walls, where Ruin (Unless aside thy purple had been thrown)

greenly dwells. Like stern Diogenes to mock at men; For sceptred cynics earth were far too wide And there they stand, as stands a lofty mind,

Worn, but unstooping to the baser crowd,


not so

[ocr errors]

a den.

All tenantless, save to the crannying wind, But o'er the blackend memory's blighting Or holding dark communion with the cloud.

dream There was a day when they were young Thy waves would vainly roll, all-sweeping and proud,

as they seem. Banners on high, and battles pass'd below; But they who fought are in a bloody shroud, Thus Harold inly said, and pass'd along, And those which waved are shredless dust Yet not insensibly to all which here

ere now,

Awoke the jocund birds to early song And the bleak battlements shall bear no In glens which might have made even exile future blow.


Though on his brow were graven lines auBeneath these battlements, within those

stere, walls,

And tranquil sternness which had ta'en the Power dwelt amidst her passions; in proud

place state

Of feelings fierier far but less severe, Each robber-chief upheld his armed halls, Joy was not always absent from his face, Doing his evil will, nor less elate

But o'er it in such scenes would steal with Than mightier heroes of a longer date.

transient trace. What want these outlaws conquerors should


Nor was all love shut from him, though his But History's purchased page to call them

days great?

Of passion had consumed themselves to dust. A wider space, an ornamented grave It is in vain that we would coldly gaze Their hopes were not less warm, their souls On such as smile upon us; the heart must

were full as brave. Leap kindly back to kindness, though disgust

Hath wean'd it from all worldlings: thus he In their baronial feuds and single fields,

felt, What deeds of prowess unrecorded died ! For there was soft remembrance, and sweet And Love, which lent a blazon to their

trust shields,

In one fond breast, to which his own would With emblems well devised by amorous

melt, pride,

And in its tenderer hour on that his bosom Through all the mail of iron-hearts would

dwelt. glide; But still their flame was fierceness, and And he had learn’d to love,- I know not why,

drew on

For this in such as him seems strange of Keen contest and destruction near allied,

mood, And many a tower for some fair mischief won, The helpless looks of blooming infancy, Saw the discolourd Rhine beneath its ruin Even in its earliest nurture; what subdued,

To change like this, a mind so far imbued

With scorn of man, it little boots to know; But Thou, exulting and abounding river! But thus it was ; and though in solitude Making thy waves a blessing as they flow Small power the nipp'd affections have to Through banks whose beauty would endure

grow, for ever

In him this glow'd when all beside had Could man but leave thy bright creation so,

ceased to glow. Nor its fair promise from the surface mow With the sharp scythe of conflict, then to And there was one soft breast, as hath been

said, Thy valley of sweet waters, were to know which unto his was bound by stronger ties Earth paved like Heaven; and to seem Than the church links withal; and, though such to me

unwed, Even now what wants thy stream ?—that That love was pure, and, far above disguise,

it should Lethe be. Had stood the test of mortal enmities

Still undivided, and cemented more A thousand battles have assail'd thy banks, By peril, dreaded most in female eyes ; But these and half their fame have passid But this was firm, and from a foreign shore away,

Well to that heart might his these absent And Slaughter heap'd on high his weltering

greetings pour! ranks ; Their very graves are gone, and what are


The castled crag of Drachenfels Thy tide wash'd down the blood of yesterday, Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhinc, And all was stainless, and on thy clear stream Whose breast of waters broadly swells Glass'd with its dancing light the sunny ray; Between the banks which bear the vine ;


[ocr errors]


And hills all rich with blossom'd trees, Here Ehrenbreitstein, with her shatter'd wall And fields which promise corn and wine, Black with the miner's blast,upon her height And scatter'd cities crowning these, Yet shows of what she was, when shell and Whose far white walls along them shine,

ball Have strew'd a scene, which I should see Rebounding idly on her strength did light; With double joy wert thou with me! A tower of victory! from whence the flight

Of baffled foes was watch'd along the plain : And peasant girls, with deep blue eyes, But Peace destroy'd what War could never And hands which offer early flowers,

blight, Walk smiling o'er this paradise;

And laid those proud roofs bare to Summer's Above, the frequent feudal towers

rainThrough green leaves lift their walls of gray, On which the iron-shower for years had And many a rock which steeply lours,

pour'd in vain. And noble arch in proud decay, Look o'er this vale of vintage-bowers ; Adieu to thee, fair Rhine! How long de· But one thing want these banks of Rhine,

lighted Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine! The stranger fain would linger on his way!

Thine is a scene alike where souls united I send the lilies given to me;

Or lonely Contemplation thus might stray; Though long before thy hand they touch, And could the ceaseless vultures cease to I know that they must wither'd be,

prey But yet reject them not as such;

On self-condemning bosoms, it were here, For I have cherish'd them as dear,

Where Nature, nor too sombre nor too gay, Because they yet may meet thine eye, Wild but not rude, awful yet not austere, And guide thy soul to mine even here, Is to the mellow Earth as Autumn to the year. When thou behold'st them drooping nigh, And know'st them gather'd by the Rhine, Adien to thee again! a vain adieu! And offer'd from my heart to thine! There can be no farewell to scène like thine;

The mind is colour'd by thy every hue; The river nobly foams and flows,

And if reluctantly the eyes resign The charm of this enchanted ground, Their cherish'd gaze upon thee, lovelyRhine! And all its thousand turns disclose Tis with the thankful glance of partingSome fresher beauty varying round;

praise; The haughtiest breast its wish might bound More mighty spots may rise—more glaring Through life to dwell delighted here;

shine, Nor could on earth a spot be found But none unite in one attaching maze To nature and to me so dear,

The brilliant, fair, and soft, – the glories Could thy dear eyes in following mine

of old days, Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine!

The negligently grand, the fruitful bloom

Of coming ripeness, the white city's sheen, By Coblentz, on a rise of gentle ground The rolling stream, the precipice's gloom, There is a small and simple pyramid, The forest's growth, and Gothic walls Crowning the summit of the verdant mound;

between, Beneath its base are heroes' ashes hid, The wild rocks shaped as they had turrets Our enemy's,—but let not that forbid

been Honour to Marceau! o'er whose early tomb In mockery of man's art; and these withal Tears, big tears, gush'd from the rough A race of faces happy as the scene,

soldier's lid, Whose fertile bounties here extend to all, Lamenting and yet envying such a doom, Still springing o'er thy banks, though EmFalling for France, whose rights he battled

pires near them fall. to resume.

But these recede. Above me are the Alps, Brief, brave, and glorious was his young The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls


Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, His mourners were two hosts, his friends. And throned Eternity in icy halls

and foes;

Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls And fitly may the stranger lingering here The avalanche-the thunderbolt of snow ! Pray for his gallant spirit's bright repose; All that expands the spirit, yet appals, For he was Freedom's champion, one of those, Gather around these summits, as to show The few in number, who had not o'erstept How Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave The charter to chastise which she bestows

vain man below. On such as wield her weapons; he had kept The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o'er Butere these matchless heights I dare to scan,

him wept.

There is a spot should not be pass'd in vain,

« 上一頁繼續 »