The Poetical Works of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart. M.P Part 74

The wizard waves his wand--disarms the sentry And (wondrous man) enchants the mob--with entry.

Thus fell, though no man touch'd him, Ludovick, 12 Tripp'd by the slide of his own slippery feet.

The crown cajoled from Fortune by a trick, Fortune, in turn, outcheated from the cheat; Clapp'd her sly cap the glittering bauble on, Cried "Presto!"--raised it--and the gaud was gone.

Ev'n at the last, to self and nature true, 13 No royal heart the breath of danger woke; To mean disguise habitual instinct flew, And the king vanish'd in a craftsman's cloak.

While his brave princes scampering for their lives, _Relictis parmulis_--forgot their wives!

King Mob succeeding to the vacant throne, 14 Chose for his ministers some wild Chaldeans,-- Who told the sun to close the day at noon, Nor sweat to death his betters the plebeians; And bade the earth, unvex'd by plough and spade, Bring forth its wheat in quarterns ready made.

The sun refused the astronomic fiat; 15 The earth declined to bake the corn it grew; King Mob then order'd that a second riot Should teach Creation what it had to do.

"The sun s.h.i.+nes on, the earth demands the tillage-- Down Time and Nature, and hurrah for pillage!"

Then rise _en ma.s.se_ the burghers of the town; 16 Each patriot breast the fires of Brutus fill; Gentle as lambs when riot reach'd the crown, They raged like lions when it touch'd the till.

Rush'd all who boasted of a shop to rob, And stout King Money soon dethroned King Mob.

This done, much scandalised to note the fact 17 That o'er the short tyrannic rise the tall, The middle-sized a penal law enact That henceforth height must be the same in all; For being each born equal with the other, What greater crime than to outgrow your brother?

Poor Vandals, do the towers, when foes a.s.sail, 18 So idly soar above the level wall?

Harmonious Order needs its music-scale; The Equal were the discord of the All.

Let the wave undulate, the mountain rise; Nor ask from Law what Nature's self denies.

O vagrant Muse, deserting all too long, 19 Freedom's grand war for frenzy's goblin dream, The hour runs on, and redemands from song, And from our Father-land the mighty theme.

The Pale Horse rushes and the trumpets swell, King Crida's hosts are storming Carduel!

Within the inmost fort by pine trees made, 20 The hardy women kneel to warrior G.o.ds.

For where the Saxon armaments invade, All life abandons their resign'd abodes.

The tents they pitch the all they prize contain; And each new march is for a new domain.

To the stern G.o.ds the fair-hair'd women kneel, 21 As slow to rest the red sun glides along; And near and far, hammers, and clanking steel, Neighs from impatient barbs, and runic song Mutter'd o'er mystic fires by wizard priests, Invite the Valkyrs to the raven feasts.

For after nine long moons of siege and storm, 22 Thy hold, Pendragon, trembles to its fall!

Loftier the Roman tower uprears its form, From the crush'd bastion and the shatter'd wall.

And but till night those iron floods delay Their rush of thunder:--Blood-red sinks the day.

Death halts to strike, and swift the moment flies: 23 Within the walls (than all without more fell), Discord with Babel tongues confounds the wise, And spectral Panic, like a form of h.e.l.l Chased by a Fury, fleets,--or, stone-like, stands Dull-eyed Despondence, palsying nerveless hands.

And Pride, that evil angel of the Celt, 24 Whispers to all "'tis servile to obey,"

Robs order'd Union of its starry belt, Rends chief from chief and tribe from tribe away, And leaves the children wrangling for command Round the wild death-throes of the Father-land.

In breadless marts, the ill-persuading fiend 25 Famine, stalks maddening with her wolfish stare; And hearts, on whose stout anchors Faith had lean'd, Bound at her look to treason from despair, Shouting, "Why shrink we from the Saxon's thrall?

Is slavery worse than Famine smiting all?"

Thus, in the absence of the sunlike king, 26 All phantoms stalk abroad; dissolve and droop Light and the life of nations--while the wing Of Carnage halts but for its rus.h.i.+ng swoop.

Some moan, some rave, some laze the hours away;-- And down from Carduel blood-red sunk the day!

Leaning against a broken parapet 27 Alone with Thought, mused Caradoc the Bard, When a voice smote him, and he turn'd and met A gaze prophetic in its sad regard.

Beside him, solemn with his hundred years, Stood the arch hierarch of the Cymrian seers.

"Dost thou remember," said the Sage, "that hour 28 When seeking signs to Glory's distant way, Thou heard'st the night bird in her leafy bower, Singing sweet death-chaunts to her s.h.i.+ning prey, While thy young poet-heart, with ravish'd breath, Hung on the music, nor divined the death?"[1]

"Ay," the bard answer'd, "and ev'n now methought 29 I heard again the ambrosial melody!"

"So," sigh'd the Prophet, "to the bard, unsought, Come the far whispers of Futurity!

Like his own harp, his soul a wind can thrill, And the chord murmur, though the hand be still.

"Wilt thou for ever, even from the tomb, 30 Live, yet a music, in the hearts of all; Arise and save thy country from its doom; Arise, Immortal, at the angel's call!

The hour shall give thee all thy life implor'd, And make the lyre more glorious than the sword.

"In vain through yon dull stupor of despair 31 Sound Geraint's tromp and Owaine's battle cry; In vain where yon rude clamour storms the air, The Council Chiefs stem madd'ning mutiny; From Trystan's mail the lion heart is gone, And on the breach stands Lancelot alone!

"Drivelling the wise, and impotent the strong; 32 Fast into night the life of Freedom dies; Awake, Light-Bringer, wake bright soul of song, Kindler, reviver, re-creator rise!

Crown thy great mission with thy parting breath, And teach to hosts the Bard's disdain of death!"

Thrill'd at that voice the soul of Caradoc; 33 He heard, and knew his glory and his doom.

As when in summer's noon the lightning shock Smites some fair elm in all its pomp of bloom, 'Mid whose green boughs each vernal breeze had play'd, And air's sweet race melodious homes had made;

So that young life bow'd sad beneath the stroke 34 That sear'd the Fresh and still'd the Musical, Yet on the sadness Thought sublimely broke: Holy the tree on which the bolt doth fall!

Wild flowers shall spring the sacred roots around, And nightly fairies tread the haunted ground;

There, age by age, shall youth with musing brow, 35 Hear Legend murmuring of the days of yore; There, virgin love more lasting deem the vow Breathed in the shade of branches green no more; And kind Religion keep the grand decay Still on the earth while forests pa.s.s away.

"So be it, O voice from Heaven," the Bard replied, 36 "Some grateful tears may yet embalm my name, Ever for human love my youth hath sigh'd And human love's divinest form is fame.

Is the dream erring? shall the song remain?

Say, can one Poet ever live in vain?"

As the warm south on some unfathom'd sea, 37 Along the Magian's soul, the awful rest Stirr'd with the soft emotion: tenderly He laid his hand upon the brows he blest, And said, "Complete beneath a brighter sun That course, The Beautiful, which life begun.

"Joyous and light, and fetterless through all 38 The blissful, infinite, empyreal s.p.a.ce, If then thy spirit stoopeth to recall The ray it shed upon the human race, See where the ray had kindled from the dearth, Seeds that shall glad the garners of the earth!

"Never true Poet lived and sung in vain! 39 Lost if his name, and wither'd if his wreath, The thoughts he woke--an element remain Fused in our light and blended with our breath; All life more n.o.ble, and all earth more fair.

Because that soul refined man's common air!"[2]

Then rose the Bard, and smilingly unslung 40 His harp of ivory sheen, from shoulders broad, Kissing the hand that doom'd his life, he sprung Light from the shatter'd wall,--and swiftly strode Where, herdlike huddled in the central s.p.a.ce, Droop'd, in dull pause, the cowering populace.

There, in the midst he stood! The heavens were pale 41 With the first stars, unseen amidst the glare Cast from large pine-brands on the sullen mail Of listless legions and the streaming hair Of women, wailing for the absent dead, Or bow'd o'er infant lips that moan'd for bread.

From out the illumed cathedral hollowly 42 Swell'd, like a dirge, the hymn; and through the throng Whose looks had lost all commerce with the sky, With lifted rood the slow monks swept along, And vanish'd hopeless; From those wrecks of man Fled ev'n Religion: Then the BARD began.

Slow, pitying, soft it glides, the liquid lay, 43 Sad with the burthen of the Singer's soul Into the heart it coil'd its lulling way; Wave upon wave the golden river stole: Hush'd to his feet forgetful Famine crept, And Woe, reviving, veil'd the eyes that wept.

Then stern, and harsh, clash'd the ascending strain, 44 Telling of ills more dismal yet in store; Rough with the iron of the grinding chain, Dire with the curse of slavery evermore; Wild shrieks from lips belov'd pale warriors hear, Her child's last death-groan rends the mother's ear;

Then trembling hands instinctive griped the swords; 45 And men unquiet sought each other's eyes; Loud into pomp sonorous swell the chords, Like linked legions march the melodies; Till the full rapture swept the Bard along, And o'er the listeners rush'd the storm of song!

And the Dead spoke! from cairns and kingly graves 46 The Heroes call'd;--and Saints from earliest shrines; And the Land spoke!--Mellifluous river-waves; Dim forests awful with the roar of pines; Mysterious caves from legion-haunted deeps; And torrents flas.h.i.+ng from untrodden steeps;--

THE LAND OF FREEDOM call'd upon the Free! 47 All Nature spoke; the clarions of the wind; The organ swell of the majestic sea; The choral stars! the Universal Mind Spoke, like the voice from which the world began, "No chain for Nature and the Soul of Man!"

Then loud through all, as if mankind's reply, 48 Burst from the Bard the Cymrian battle hymn!

That song which swell'd the anthems of the sky, The Alleluia of the Seraphim; When Saints led on the Children of the Lord, And smote the Heathen with the Angel's sword.[3]