The Poetical Works of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart. M.P Part 32

II.

The loftiest fate will longest lie In unrevealing sleep; And yet unknown the destined race, Nor yet his Soul had walk'd with Grace; Still, on the seas of Time Drifted the ever-careless prime,-- But many a blast that o'er the sky All idly seems to sweep,-- Still while it speeds, may spread the seeds The toils of autumn reap:-- And we must blame the soil, and not the wind, If hurrying pa.s.sion leave no golden grain behind.

III.

Seize--seize--seize![N]

Bind him strong in the chain, On his heart, on his brain, Clasp the links of the evil Sleep!

Seize--seize--seize-- Ye fiends that dimly sweep Up from the Stygian deep, Where Death sits watchful by his brother's side!

Ye pale Impalpables, that are Shadows of Truths afar, Appearing oft to warn, but ne'er to guide,-- Hover around the calm, disdainful Fates, Reveal the woof through which the spindle gleams:-- Open, ye Ebon gates!

Darken the moon--O Dreams!

Seize--seize--seize-- Bind him strong in the chain, On his heart, on his brain, Clasp the links of the evil Sleep!

Awakes or dreams he still?

His eyes are open with a gla.s.sy stare, On the fix'd brow the large drops gather chill, And horror, like a wind, stirs through the lifted hair.

Before him stands the Thing of Dread-- A giant shadow motionless and pale!

As those dim Lemur-Vapours that exhale From the rank gra.s.ses rotting o'er the Dead, And startle midnight with the mocking show Of the still, shrouded bones that sleep below-- So the wan image which the Vision bore Was outlined from the air, no more Than served to make the loathing sense a bond Between the world of life, and grislier worlds beyond.

IV.

"Behold!" the Shadow said, and lo, Where the blank heath had spread, a smiling scene; Soft woodlands sloping from a village green,[O]

And, waving to blue Heaven, the happy cornfields glow: A modest roof, with ivy cl.u.s.ter'd o'er, And Childhood's busy mirth beside the door.

But, yonder, sunset sleeping on the sod, Bow Labour's rustic sons in solemn prayer; And, self-made teacher of the truths of G.o.d, The Dreamer sees the Phantom-Cromwell there!

"Art thou content, of these the greatest _Thou_,"

Murmur'd the Fiend, "the Master and the Priest?"

A sullen anger knit the Dreamer's brow, And from his scornful lips the words came slow, "The greatest of the hamlet, Demon, No!"

Loud laugh'd the Fiend--then trembled through the sky, Where haply angels watch'd, a warning sigh;-- And darkness swept the scene, and golden Quiet ceased.

V.

"Behold!" the Shadow said--a h.e.l.l-born ray Shoots through the Night, up-leaps the unholy Day, Spring from the earth the Dragon's armed seed, The ghastly squadron wheels, and neighs the spectre-steed.

Unnatural sounded the sweet Mother-tongue, As loud from host to host the English war-cry rung; Kindred with kindred blent in slaughter show The dark phantasma of the Prophet-Woe!

A gay and glittering band!

Apollo's lovelocks in the crest of Mars-- Light-hearted Valour, laughing scorn to scars-- A gay and glittering band, Unwitting of the scythe--the lilies of the land!

Pale in the midst, that stately squadron boasts A princely form, a mournful brow; And still, where plumes are proudest, seen, With sparkling eye and dauntless mien, The young Achilles[P] of the hosts.

On rolls the surging war--and now Along the closing columns ring-- "Rupert" and "Charles"--"The Lady of the Crown,"[Q]

"Down with the Roundhead Rebels, down!"

"St. George and England's king."

A stalwart and a st.u.r.dy band,-- Whose souls of sullen zeal Are made, by the Immortal Hand Invulnerable steel!

A kneeling host,--a pause of prayer, A single voice thrills through the air "They come. Up, Ironsides!

For TRUTH and PEACE unsparing smite!

Behold the accursed Amalekite!"

The Dreamer's heart beat high and loud, For, calmly through the carnage-cloud, The scourge and servant of the Lord, This hand the Bible--that the sword-- The Phantom-Cromwell rides!

A lurid darkness swallows the array, One moment lost--the darkness rolls away, And, o'er the slaughter done, Smiles, with his eyes of love, the setting Sun; Death makes our foe our brother; And, meekly, side by side, Sleep scowling Hate and sternly smiling Pride, On the kind breast of Earth, the quiet Mother!

Lo, where the victor sweeps along, The Gideon of the gory throng, Beneath his hoofs the harmless dead-- The aureole on his helmed head-- Before him steel-clad Victory bending, Around, from earth to heaven ascending The fiery incense of triumphant song.

So, as some orb, above a mighty stream Sway'd by its law, and sparkling in its beam,-- A power apart from that tempestuous tide, Calm and aloft, behold the Phantom-Conqueror ride!

"Art thou content--of these the greatest Thou, Hero and Patriot?" murmur'd then the Fiend.

The unsleeping Dreamer answer'd, "Tempter, nay, My soul stands breathless on the mountain's brow And looks _beyond_!" Again swift darkness screen'd The solemn Chieftain and the fierce array, And armed Glory pa.s.s'd, like happier Peace, away.

VI.

He look'd again, and saw A chamber with funereal sables hung, Wherein there lay a ghastly, headless thing That once had been a king-- And by the corpse a living man, whose doom, Had both been left to Nature's gradual law, Were riper for the garner-house of gloom.[R]

Rudely beside the gory clay were flung The Norman sceptre and the Saxon crown;[S]

So, after some imperial Tragedy August alike with sorrow and renown, We smile to see the gauds that moved our awe, Purple and orb, in dusty lumber lie,-- Alas, what thousands, on the stage of Time, Envied the baubles, and revered the Mine!

Placed by the trunk--with long and whitening hair By dark-red gouts besprent, the sever'd head Up to the Gazer's musing eyes, the while, Look'd with its livid brow and stony smile.

On that sad scene, his gaze the Dreamer fed, Familiar both the Living and the Dead; Terror, and hate, and strife concluded there, Calm in his six-feet realm the monarch lay; And by the warning victim's mangled clay The Phantom-Cromwell smiled,--and bending down With shadowy fingers toy'd about the shadowy crown.

"Art thou content at last?--a Greater thou Than one to whom the loftiest bent the knee.

First in thy fierce Republic of the Free, Avenger and Deliverer?"

"Fiend," replied The Dreamer, "who shall palter with the tide?-- _Deliverer!_ Pilots who the vessel save Leave not the helm while winds are on the wave.

THE FUTURE is the Haven of THE NOW!"

"True," quoth the Fiend--Again the darkness spread, And night gave back to air the Doomsman and the Dead!

VII.

"See," cried the Fiend;--he views A lofty Senate stern with many a form Not unfamiliar to the earlier strife; Knit were the brows--and pa.s.sion flush'd the hues, And all were hush'd!--that, hush which is in life As in the air, prophetic of a storm.

Uprose a shape[T] with dark bright eye; It spoke--and at the word The Dreamer breathed an angry sigh; And starting--clutch'd his sword; An instinct bade him hate and fear That unknown shape--as if a foe were near-- For, mighty in that mien of thoughtful youth, Spoke Fraud's most deadly foe--a soul on fire with Truth; A soul without one stain Save England's hallowing tears;--the sad and starry Vane.

There enter'd on that conclave high A solitary Man!

And rustling through the conclave high A troubled murmur ran; A moment more--loud riot all-- With pike and morion gleam'd the startled hall: And there, where, since the primal date Of Freedom's glorious morn, The eternal People solemn sate, The People's Champion spat his ribald scorn!

Dark moral to all ages!--Blent in one The broken fasces and the shatter'd throne; The deed that d.a.m.ns immortally is done; And FORCE, the Cain of Nations-reigns alone!

The veil is rent--the crafty soul lies bare!

"Behold," the Demon cried, "the _Future_ Cromwell, there!

Art thou content, on earth the Greatest thou, APOSTATE AND USURPER?"--From his rest The Dreamer started with a heaving breast, The better angels of the human heart Not dumb to his,--The h.e.l.l-Born laugh'd aloud, And o'er the Evil Vision rush'd the cloud!

[A] Talma.

[B] Certainly the sculptor of the Farnese Hercules well conceived that ideal character of the demi-G.o.d, which makes Aristotle (Prob. 30) cla.s.s the grand Personification of Labour amongst the Melancholy. It is the union of mournful repose with colossal power, which gives so profound a moral sentiment to that masterpiece of art.

[C] "Aus den Saiten, wie aus ihren Himmeln, Neugebor'ne Seraphim."--_Schiller._

[D] Libitina, the Venus who presided over funerals.

[E] Mary Stuart--"the soft Medusa" is an expression strikingly applied to her in her own day.

[F] See the correspondence maintained by Francis Bacon and Robert Cecil (the sons of Elizabeth's most faithful friends) with the Scottish court, during the Queen's last illness.

[G] "It was after labouring for nearly three weeks under a morbid melancholy, which brought on a stupor not unmixed with some indications of a disordered fancy, that the Queen expired."--_Aikin's translation of a Latin letter (author unknown) to Edmund Lambert._