Tho' the Roman eagle shadow thee, tho' the gathering enemy narrow thee, Thou shalt wax and he shall dwindle, thou shalt be the mighty one yet! Thine the liberty, thine the glory, thine the deeds to be celebrated, Thine the myriad-rolling ocean, light and shadow illimitable, Thine the lands of lasting summer, manyblossoming Paradises, Thine the North and thine the South and thine the battle-thunder of God." So they chanted: how shall Britain light upon auguries happier? So they chanted in the darkness, and there cometh a victory now. "Hear, Icenian, Catieuchlanian, hear, Coritanian, Trinobant ! Me the wife of rich Prasútagus, me the lover of liberty, Me they seized and me they tortured, me they lash'd and humiliated, Me the sport of ribald Veterans, mine of ruffian violators ! See, they sit, they hide their faces, miserable in ignominy! Wherefore in me burns an anger, not by blood to be satiated. Lo the palaces and the temple, lo the colony Camulodúne ! There they ruled, and thence they wasted all the flourishing territory, Thither at their will they haled the yellowringleted Britoness Bloodily, bloodily fall the battle-axe, unexhausted, inexorable. Shout, Icenian, Catieuchlanian, shout, Coritanian, Trinobant, Till the victim hear within and yearn to hurry precipitously, Like the leaf in a roaring whirlwind, like the smoke in a hurricane whirl'd. Lo the colony, there they rioted in the city of Cúnobelíne ! There they drank in cups of emerald, there at tables of ebony lay, Rolling on their purple couches in their tender effeminacy. --- There they dwelt and there they rioted; there there they dweli no more. Burst the gates, and burn the palaces, break the works of the statuary, Take the hoary Roman head and shatter it, hold it abominable, Cut the Roman boy to pieces in his lust and voluptuousness, Lash the maiden into swooning, me they lash'd and humiliated, Chop the breasts from off the mother, dash the brains of the little one out, Up, my Britons! or, my chariot! on, my chargers, trample them under us!" So the Queen Boädicéa, standing loftily charioted, Brandishing in her hand a dart and rolling glances lioness-like, Yell'd and shriek'd between her daughters in her fierce volubility. Till her people all around the royal chariot agitated, Madly dash'd the darts together, writhing barbarous lineaments, Made the noise of frosty woodlands, when they shiver in January, Roar'd as when the roaring breakers boom and blanch on the precipices, Yell'd as when the winds of winter tear an oak on a promontory. So the silent colony, hearing her tumultuous adversaries Clash the darts and on the buckler beat with rapid unanimous hand, Thought on all her evil tyrannies, all her pitiless avarice, Till she felt the heart within her fall and flutter tremulously, Then her pulses at the clamoring of her enemy fainted away. Out of evil evil flourishes, out of tyranny tyranny buds. Ran the land with Roman slaughter, multitudinous agonies. Perish'd many a maid and matron, many a valorous legionary, Fell the colony, city, and citadel, London, Verulam, Camulodúne. IN QUANTITY ON TRANSLATIONS OF HOMER (HEXAMETERS AND PENTAMETERS) This and the three following 'experiments in quantity' appeared in the Cornhill Magazine' for December, 1863. This was not printed with the others in the 'Enoch Arden' The Milton' and the 'Hendecasyllabics' have not been altered. The Specimen of a Translation of the Iliad in Blank Verse' was prefaced in the 'Cornhill Magazine' with the following note: "Some, and among these one at least of our best and greatest, have endeavored to give us the "Iliad in English hexameters, and by what appears to me their failures have gone far to prove the impossibility of the task. I have long held by our blank verse in this matter, and now after having spoken so disrespectfully here of these hexameters, I venture, or rather feel bound, to subjoin a specimen, however brief and with whatever demerits, of a blank verse translation.' THESE lame hexameters the strong-wing'd music of Homer! No but a most burlesque barbarous experiment. When was a harsher sound ever heard, ye Muses, in England ? When did a frog coarser croak upon our Helicon ? Hexameters no worse than daring Germany gave us, Barbarous experiment, barbarous hexa meters. MILTON (ALCAICS) O MIGHTY-MOUTH'D inventor of harmonies, Milton, a name to resound for ages; Whose Titan angels, Gabriel, Abdiel, Starr'd from Jehovah's gorgeous armories, Tower, as the deep-domed empyrean Rings to the roar of an angel onset ! Me rather all that bowery loneliness, The brooks of Eden mazily murmuring, And bloom profuse and cedar arches Charm, as a wanderer out in ocean, And crimson-hued the stately palm-woods (HENDECASYLLABICS) O you chorus of indolent reviewers, Irresponsible, indolent reviewers, Look, I come to the test, a tiny poem All composed in a metre of Catullus, Lest I fall unawares before the people, All that chorus of indolent reviewers. Too presumptuous, indolent reviewers. Shine, and the shepherd gladdens in his heart; So many a fire between the ships and stream A thousand on the plain; and close by each Fixt by their cars, waited the golden dawn. THE THIRD OF FEBRUARY, 1852 This poem is one of three inspired by the excitement in England which followed the coup d'état of Louis Napoleon in December, 1851. It was a powerful rebuke to the House of Lords for having deprecated the free criticism expressed in newspapers and in speeches against the author of that crime.' It appeared in the Examiner' for February 7, 1852, and was signed Merlin.' The patriotic lyric,' Hands all round,' was printed in the same number of the Examiner;' and 'Britons, guard your own,' in the preceding number (January 31, 1852). The poem was first acknowledged and included in the collected works in 1872. My Lords, we heard you speak: you told us all That England's honest censure went too far, That our free press should cease to brawl, Not sting the fiery Frenchman into war. It was our ancient privilege, my Lords, To fling whate'er we felt, not fearing, into words. We love not this French God, the child of hell, Wild War, who breaks the converse of the wise; But though we love kind Peace so well, We dare not even by silence sanction lies. It might be safe our censures to withdraw, And yet, my Lords, not well; there is a higher law. As long as we remain, we must speak free, Tho' all the storm of Europe on us break. No little German state are we, But the one voice in Europe; we must speak, Far and far away,' said the dainty little maiden, 'All among the meadows, the clover and the clematis, Daisies and kingcups and honeysuckleflowers.' II MINNIE AND WINNIE MINNIE and Winnie Slept in a shell. Sleep, little ladies! And they slept well. Pink was the shell within, Sleep, little ladies ! Wake not soon! Echo on echo Dies to the moon. Two bright stars Peep'd into the shell. 'What are they dreaming of? Who can tell?' Started a green linnet Out of the croft; Wake, little ladies! The sun is aloft ! THE SPITEFUL LETTER Contributed to 'Once a Week' in January, 1868, and reprinted in 1884. Attempts have been made to identify the writer of the letter; but the poet wrote to the editor of 'Once a Week': 'It is no particular letter that I meant. I have had dozens of them from one quarter and another.' HERE, it is here, the close of the year, My name in song has done him much wrong, O little bard, is your lot so hard, |