XIV. Like the Chaldean, he conld watch the stars, And human frailties, were forgotten quite: XV. But in Man's dwellings he became a thing Restless and worn, and stern and wearisome, Droop'd as a wild-born falcon with clipt wing, To whom the boundless air alone were home: Then came his fit again, which to o'ercome, As eagerly the barr'd-up bird will beat His breast and beak against his wiry dome Till the blood tinge his plumage, so the heat Of his impeded soul would through his bosom eat. XVI. Self-exiled Harold wanders forth again, With nought of hope left, but with less of gloom; When mariners would madly meet their doom With draughts intemperate on the sinking deck, Did yet inspire a cheer, which he forbore to check. XVII. Stop!-for thy tread is on an Empire's dust! ** How that red rain hath made the harvest grow! And is this all the world has gain'd by thee, Thou first and last of fields! king-making Victory? XVIII. And Harold stands upon this place of skulls, The grave of France, the deadly Waterloo; How in an hour the power which gave annuls Its gifts, transferring fame as fleeting too! In "pride of place») here last the eagle flew, Then tore with bloody talon the rent plain, Pierced by the shaft of banded nations through; Ambition's life and labours all were vain; He wears the shatter'd links of the world's broken chain. ΧΙΧ. Fit retribution! Gaul may champ the bit And foam in fetters; - but is Earth more free? Did nations combat to make One submit; Or league to teach all kings true sovereignty? What! shall reviving Thraldom again be The patch'd-up idol of enlighten'd days? Shall we, who struck the Lion down, shall we Pay the Wolf homage? proffering lowly gaze And servile knees to thrones? No; prove before ye praise! XX. If not, o'er one fallen despot boast no more! In vain fair cheeks were furrow'd with hot tears For Europe's flowers long rooted up before The trampler of her vineyards; in vain years Of death, depopulation, bondage, fears, Have all been borne, and broken by the accord Of roused-up millions: all that most endears Glory, is when the myrtle wreathes a sword Such as Harmodius 2) drew on Athens' tyrant lord. XXI. There was a sound of revelry by night, The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage-bell; 3) But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell ! XXII. Did ye not hear it? No; 'twas but the wind, No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet But, hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! Arm! it is-it is-the cannon's opening roar! XXIII. Within a window'd niche of that high hall He rush'd into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell. XXIV. Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise? XXV. And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips-"The foe! They come! they come!» XXVI. And wild and high the " Cameron's gathering » rose! The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes: How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills Their mountain pipe, so fill the mountaineers With the fierce native daring which instils The stirring memory of a thousand years, And 4) Evan's, 5) Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears! XXVII. And Ardennes 6) waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Of living valour, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low. XXVIII. Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms, - the day Battle's magnificently-stern array! The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent The earth is cover'd thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover, heap'd and pent, Rider and horse,-friend, foe,-in one red burial blent! XXIX. Their praise is hymn'd by loftier harps than mine; Yet one I would select from that prond throng, Partly because they blend me with his line, And partly that I did his sire some wrong, And partly that bright names will hallow song; And his was of the bravest, and when shower'd The death-bolts deadliest the thinn'd files along, Even where the thickest of war's tempest lower'd, They reach'd no nobler breast than thine, young, gallant Howard! Xxx. There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee. And mine were nothing, had I such to give; But when I stood beneath the fresh green tree, Which living waves where thou didst cease to live, And saw around me the wide field revive With fruits and fertile promise, and the Spring Come forth her work of gladness to contrive, With all her reckless birds upon the wing, I turn'd from all she brought to those she could not bring.") XxxI. I turn'd to thee, to thousands, of whom each The Archangel's trump, not Glory's, must awake of Fame May for a moment soothe, it cannot slake The fever of vain longing, and the name So honour'd but assumes a stronger, bitterer claim. |