The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince Edited by R. A. Douglas Lithgow |
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WAR. |
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 | The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince |  |
281
WAR.
Scourge of the nations, and the bane of freedom, hope, and life!
Stern reveller in gory fields, exulting in the strife!
Thou terror of ten thousand homes, thou sword-plague of the world!
When shall we see thy balefires quenched, thy bloodstained banners furled?
Stern reveller in gory fields, exulting in the strife!
Thou terror of ten thousand homes, thou sword-plague of the world!
When shall we see thy balefires quenched, thy bloodstained banners furled?
Ambition-born, and power-begot, with passions dark and vile,
And fostered by the cruel arts of avarice and guile,
Thou goest forth with reckless hosts to slaughter and enslave,
Thou trampler upon human hearts, thou gorger of the grave!
And fostered by the cruel arts of avarice and guile,
Thou goest forth with reckless hosts to slaughter and enslave,
Thou trampler upon human hearts, thou gorger of the grave!
Thy oriflamme floats wantonly in the pure unconscious air;
The chorus of thy drums gives out the warning note “Prepare;”
Thy cymbals ring, thy trumpets sing with shrill and vaunting breath,
Alas! that such vain pageantry should grace the feast of death!
The chorus of thy drums gives out the warning note “Prepare;”
Thy cymbals ring, thy trumpets sing with shrill and vaunting breath,
Alas! that such vain pageantry should grace the feast of death!
Growing in peaceful splendour stands some proud and prosperous town,
Till thy dread footsteps pass her gates, and tread her glories down;
While panic sweeps her wildering streets, and all thy hounds of prey,
Make riot in her homes, and leave dishonour and dismay.
Till thy dread footsteps pass her gates, and tread her glories down;
While panic sweeps her wildering streets, and all thy hounds of prey,
Make riot in her homes, and leave dishonour and dismay.
282
Some village, nestling tranquilly amid its happy shades,
Girt with the calm amenities of corn-fields, streams, and glades,
Beholds thee pause upon thy march, and in thy fierce employ
Despoil its blooming paradise of quietude and joy.
Girt with the calm amenities of corn-fields, streams, and glades,
Beholds thee pause upon thy march, and in thy fierce employ
Despoil its blooming paradise of quietude and joy.
A province withers at thy frown, a kingdom mourns to see
Her desecrated temples torn, her towers o'erthrown by thee;
Bewails her commerce paralysed, her fields unploughed and wild,
And all her household sanctities invaded and defiled.
Her desecrated temples torn, her towers o'erthrown by thee;
Bewails her commerce paralysed, her fields unploughed and wild,
And all her household sanctities invaded and defiled.
And yet the land that sends thee forth, what land soe'er it be,
Leaps at thy lawless victories, and lifts the voice of glee,
And songs are sung, and bells are rung, and merry bonfires blaze,
While false, or foolish pens, distil the poison of their praise.
Leaps at thy lawless victories, and lifts the voice of glee,
And songs are sung, and bells are rung, and merry bonfires blaze,
While false, or foolish pens, distil the poison of their praise.
And at the crowded banquet board quick tongues diffuse thy fame,
And columns lift proud capitals in honour of thy name.
And virgins, pure and beautiful, give their fond hearts away
To men who trod out human life in the carnage yesterday.
And columns lift proud capitals in honour of thy name.
And virgins, pure and beautiful, give their fond hearts away
To men who trod out human life in the carnage yesterday.
Thy trophies, brought in triumph home, attest what thou hast done,
What valour lavished on the foe, what fields of glory won;
But men who scorn thy painful pomp, survey with blushing face
Such signs of sanguinary power, such symbols of disgrace.
What valour lavished on the foe, what fields of glory won;
But men who scorn thy painful pomp, survey with blushing face
Such signs of sanguinary power, such symbols of disgrace.
283
Ay, strip thee of thy dainty garb, thy tinsel robe of pride,
Lay glistering helm, and flaunting plume, and specious names aside,—
And what remains of that gay thing that dazzled us before?
A monster, hideous to behold—an idol smeared with gore!
Lay glistering helm, and flaunting plume, and specious names aside,—
And what remains of that gay thing that dazzled us before?
A monster, hideous to behold—an idol smeared with gore!
The widow's curse is on thee, War; the orphan's suppliant cries,
Mixed with the mother's malison, ascend the placid skies;
And bones that bleach upon the shore, and welter in the sea,
Appeal,—and shall it be in vain? against thy deeds and thee.
Mixed with the mother's malison, ascend the placid skies;
And bones that bleach upon the shore, and welter in the sea,
Appeal,—and shall it be in vain? against thy deeds and thee.
The green earth fain would fling thee off from her polluted breast:
The multitudes are yearning, too, for knowledge and for rest,
And lips inspired by Christian love all deprecate thy wrongs,
And poets fired with purer themes, disdain thee in their songs.
The multitudes are yearning, too, for knowledge and for rest,
And lips inspired by Christian love all deprecate thy wrongs,
And poets fired with purer themes, disdain thee in their songs.
“The embattled corn” is lovelier far than thy embattled hordes;
One plough in Labour's honest hand is worth ten thousand swords;
The engine's steam pulse, fitly plied, hath nobler conquests made
Than all the congregated serfs of thy abhorrent trade.
One plough in Labour's honest hand is worth ten thousand swords;
The engine's steam pulse, fitly plied, hath nobler conquests made
Than all the congregated serfs of thy abhorrent trade.
More courage in the miner's heart than captain ever knew;
More promise in the peasant's frock than coats of scarlet hue;
More honour in the craftsman's cap, and in the student's gown;
More glory in the pastor's robe than all thy vain renown.
More promise in the peasant's frock than coats of scarlet hue;
284
More glory in the pastor's robe than all thy vain renown.
England, my own, my mother land, as fair as thou art free!
Thou Island queen! whose wide domains o'ersprinkle earth and sea,
What need that thou should'st yearn again to conquer and subdue?
Thy power has long been known to all, shall not thy mercy too?
Thou Island queen! whose wide domains o'ersprinkle earth and sea,
What need that thou should'st yearn again to conquer and subdue?
Thy power has long been known to all, shall not thy mercy too?
Forbear to use the cruel sword, or, if thou wilt invade,
Be it with palm or olive branch, that maketh none afraid;
Be it with Bible in thy hand, with justice in thy breast,
Give peaceful arts; give Gospel light; give rectitude and rest.
Be it with palm or olive branch, that maketh none afraid;
Be it with Bible in thy hand, with justice in thy breast,
Give peaceful arts; give Gospel light; give rectitude and rest.
If strong ambition dares to doom his weaker foe to bleed,
Raise high the trumpet-voice of truth against the ruthless deed;
With magnanimity of heart, with calm and fearless brow,
Be thou the umpire and the friend—the mediator thou.
Raise high the trumpet-voice of truth against the ruthless deed;
With magnanimity of heart, with calm and fearless brow,
Be thou the umpire and the friend—the mediator thou.
So shall the nations look to thee, as one ordained to keep
The balance of the social world, the portals of the deep;
And history shall write thee down, with proud and willing hand,
A realm of mind and majesty, a wise and Christian land!
The balance of the social world, the portals of the deep;
And history shall write thee down, with proud and willing hand,
A realm of mind and majesty, a wise and Christian land!
| The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince | |