« PredošláPokračovať »
"So, in the populous City, a young
Has baffled Havoc of the prey
Marks as his own whene'er, with Why pause the victor swords to seal his
Men make them arms to hurl down
False arbiter between the bound
And o'er the land, in hamlets and in
The multitudes collect tumultuously, And throng in arms; but tyranny dis
Their claim, and gathers strength around its trembling thrones.
"Blood soon, although unwillingly,
The free cannot forbear- the
Custom, with iron mace points to
Where her own standard desolately
And startles on his throne their sceptred foe:
He sits amid his idle pomp aghast, And that his power hath passed away doth know
Over the dust of Prophets and of Kings. Many yet stand in her array-‘she paves
Her path with human hearts,' and o'er it flings The wildering gloom of her immeasur able wings.
"The tyrant's guards resistance yet maintain :
Fearless and fierce and hard as beasts of blood,
They stand a speck amid the peopled plain;
Carnage and ruin have been made their food
From infancy-ill has become their good,
And for its hateful sake their will has
The chains which eat their heartsthe multitude,
Surrounding them, with words of human love
Seek from their own decay their stubborn minds to move.
"Over the land is felt a sudden pause, As night and day, those ruthless bands around,
The watch of love is kept-a trance which awes
The thoughts of men with hopeas, when the sound
Of whirlwind whose fierce blasts the waves and clouds confound Dies suddenly, the mariner in fear Feels silence sink upon his heartthus bound,
"There is a plain beneath the City's
Bounded by misty mountains, wide
Millions there lift at Freedom's thrill- Clasp the relentless knees of Dread the ing call
Ten thousand standards wide, they
load the blast Which bears one sound of many voices past,
The conquerors pause, and oh may freemen ne'er
"If blood be shed, 'tis but a change and choice
And quickly common hopes made freemen understood.
I sate beside him while the morning beam
Crept slowly over Heaven, and talked with him
Of those immortal hopes, a glorious The gentle hearts whose power their lives had sought to spare.
Which led us forth, until the stars
And all the while methought his voice did swim
As if it drowned in remembrance were Of thoughts which make the moist eyes overbrim:
At last, when daylight 'gan to fill the air,
He looked on me, and cried in wonder, "Thou art here!"
Then, suddenly, I knew it was the youth
In whom its earliest hopes my spirit found;
But envious tongues had stained his spotless truth,
And thoughtless pride his love in silence bound,
And shame and sorrow mine in toils had wound,
Whilst he was innocent, and I deluded; The truth now came upon me, on the ground
Tears of repenting joy, which fast intruded,
Fell fast, and o'er its peace our mingling spirits brooded.
Thus while with rapid lips and earnest eyes
Our bands outsprung, and seized their arms-we sped
Towards the sound: our tribes were gathering far.
Those sanguine slaves, amid ten thousand dead
Stabbed in their sleep, trampled in treacherous war
We talked, a sound of sweeping conflict, spread
As from the earth, did suddenly arise; From every tent, roused by that clamour dread,
I rushed before its point, and cried "Forbear, forbear!"
The spear transfixed my arm that was uplifted
In swift expostulation, and the blood
Gushed round its point: I smiled, and-"O thou gifted
With eloquence which shall not be withstood,
Flow thus!" I cried in joy, "thou vital flood,
Until my heart be dry, ere thus the
For which thou wert aught worthy be subdued!
Ah! ye are pale,-ye weep,—your passions pause,'Tis well! ye feel the truth of love's benignant laws.
'Soldiers, our brethren and our friends are slain :
Ye murdered them, I think, as they did sleep!
Alas! what have ye done? The slightest pain
Which ye might suffer there were eyes to weep,
But ye have quenched them-there were smiles to steep
Your hearts in balm, but they are lost in woe;
And those whom love did set his watch to keep
Around your tents, truth's freedom to bestow,
Ye stabbed as they did sleep-but they forgive ye now.
We all are brethren-even the slaves who kill
For hire are men; and to avenge misdeed
On the misdoer doth but Misery feed
With her own broken heart! O
Earth, O Heaven!
And thou, dread Nature, which to every deed,
And all that lives or is, to be hath given,
Even as to thee have these done ill, and are forgiven!
"Join then your hands and hearts, and let the past
Be as a grave, which gives not up its dead, To evil thoughts."
-A film then over
My sense with dimness, for the wound, which bled
Freshly, swift shadows o'er mine eyes had shed.
When I awoke, I lay mid friends and
And earnest countenances on me shed
The light of questioning looks, whilst one did close
My wound with balmiest herbs, and soothed me to repose.