The poetical works of William Lisle Bowles ... with memoir, critical dissertation, and explanatory notes, by the Rev. George Gilfillan |
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| 2. | CANTO SECOND. |
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 | The poetical works of William Lisle Bowles |  |
CANTO SECOND.
Waltham Forest—Tower—William and his Barons.
There had been fearful sounds in the air last night
In the wild wolds of Holderness, when York
Flamed to the midnight sky, and spells of death
Were heard amidst the depth of Waltham woods;
For there the wan and weird sisters met
Their imps, and the dark spirits that rejoice
When foulest deeds are done on earth, and there
In dread accordance rose their dismal joy.
SPIRITS AND NIGHT-HAGS.In the wild wolds of Holderness, when York
Flamed to the midnight sky, and spells of death
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For there the wan and weird sisters met
Their imps, and the dark spirits that rejoice
When foulest deeds are done on earth, and there
In dread accordance rose their dismal joy.
Around, around, around,
Troop and dance we to the sound,
Whilst mocking imps cry, Ho! ho! ho!
On earth there will be woe! more woe!
SPIRIT OF THE EARTHQUAKE.
Arise, swart fiends, 'tis I command;
Burst your caves, and rock the land.
SPIRIT OF THE STORM.
Loud tempests, sweep the conscious wood!
SPIRIT OF THE BATTLE.
I scent from earth more blood! more blood!
SPIRIT OF THE FIRE.
When the wounded cry,
And the craven die,
I will ride on the spires,
And the red volumes of the bursting fires.
SPIRITS AND NIGHT-HAGS.
Around, around, around,
Dance we to the dismal sound
Of dying cries and mortal woe,
Whilst mocking imps shout, Ho! ho! ho!
104
Hear!
Spirits that our 'hests perform
In the earthquake or the storm,
Appear, appear!
A fire is lighted—the pale smoke goes up;
Obscure, terrific features through the clouds
Are seen, and a wild laughter heard, We come!
FIRST MINISTERING SPIRIT.Obscure, terrific features through the clouds
Are seen, and a wild laughter heard, We come!
I have syllables of dread;
They can wake the dreamless dead.
SECOND SPIRIT.
I, a dark sepulchral song,
That can lead hell's phantom-throng.
THIRD SPIRIT.
Like a nightmare I will rest
This night upon King William's breast!
SPIRITS AND NIGHT-HAGS.
Around, around, around,
Dance we to the dismal sound
Of dying shrieks and mortal woe,
Whilst antic imps shout, Ho! ho! ho!
They vanished, and the earth shook where they stood.
That night, King William first within the Tower
Received his vassal barons; in that Tower
Which oft since then has echoed to night-shrieks
Of secret murder, or the lone lament.
Now other sounds were heard, for on this night
Its canopied and vaulted chambers rang
With minstrelsy; whilst sounds of long acclaim
Re-echoed, from the loopholes, o'er the Thames:
The drawbridge, and the ponderous cullis-gate,
Frowned on the moat; the flanking towers aspired
O'er the embattled walls, where proudly waved
The Norman banner. William, laugh to scorn
The murmurs of conspiracy and hate
That round thee gather, like the storms of night
Mustering, when murder hides her visored mien!
Now, what hast thou to fear! Let the fierce Dane
Into the centre of thy kingdom sweep,
With hostile armament, even like the tide
Of the hoarse Humber, on whose waves he rode!
Let foes confederate; let one voice of hate,
One cry of instant vengeance, one deep curse
Be heard, from Waltham woods to Holderness!
Let Waltheof, stern in steel; let Hereward,
Impatient as undaunted, flash their swords;
Let the boy Edgar, backed by Scotland's king,
Advance his feeble claim, and don his casque,
Whose brows might better a blue bonnet grace;
Let Edwin and vindictive Morcar join
The sons of Harold,—what hast thou to fear?
London's sole Tower might laugh their strength to scorn!
Received his vassal barons; in that Tower
Which oft since then has echoed to night-shrieks
105
Now other sounds were heard, for on this night
Its canopied and vaulted chambers rang
With minstrelsy; whilst sounds of long acclaim
Re-echoed, from the loopholes, o'er the Thames:
The drawbridge, and the ponderous cullis-gate,
Frowned on the moat; the flanking towers aspired
O'er the embattled walls, where proudly waved
The Norman banner. William, laugh to scorn
The murmurs of conspiracy and hate
That round thee gather, like the storms of night
Mustering, when murder hides her visored mien!
Now, what hast thou to fear! Let the fierce Dane
Into the centre of thy kingdom sweep,
With hostile armament, even like the tide
Of the hoarse Humber, on whose waves he rode!
Let foes confederate; let one voice of hate,
One cry of instant vengeance, one deep curse
Be heard, from Waltham woods to Holderness!
Let Waltheof, stern in steel; let Hereward,
Impatient as undaunted, flash their swords;
Let the boy Edgar, backed by Scotland's king,
Advance his feeble claim, and don his casque,
Whose brows might better a blue bonnet grace;
Let Edwin and vindictive Morcar join
The sons of Harold,—what hast thou to fear?
London's sole Tower might laugh their strength to scorn!
Upon that night when York's proud castle fell,
Here William held his court. The torches glared
On crest and crozier. Knights and prelates bowed
Before their sovereign. He, his knights and peers
Surveying with a stern complacency,
Inclined not from his seat, o'ercanopied
With golden valance, woven by no hand,
Save of the Queen. Yet calm his countenance
Shone, and his brow a dignified repose
Marked kingly; high his forehead, and besprent
With dark hair, interspersed with gray; his eye
Glanced amiable, chiefly when the light
Of a brief smile attempered majesty.
His beard was dark and heavy, yet diffused,
Low as the lion ramping on his breast
Engrailed upon the mail.
Here William held his court. The torches glared
On crest and crozier. Knights and prelates bowed
Before their sovereign. He, his knights and peers
Surveying with a stern complacency,
Inclined not from his seat, o'ercanopied
With golden valance, woven by no hand,
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Shone, and his brow a dignified repose
Marked kingly; high his forehead, and besprent
With dark hair, interspersed with gray; his eye
Glanced amiable, chiefly when the light
Of a brief smile attempered majesty.
His beard was dark and heavy, yet diffused,
Low as the lion ramping on his breast
Engrailed upon the mail.
Odo approached,
And knelt, then rising, placed the diadem
Upon his brow, with laurels intertwined.
Again the voice of acclamation rang,
And from the galleries a hundred harps
Resounded Roland's song! Long live the King!
The barons, and the prelates, and the knights,
Long live the Conqueror! cried; a god on earth!
That instant the high vaulted chamber shook
As with a blast from heaven, and all was mute
Around him, and the very fortress rocked,
As it would topple on their heads. He rose
Disturbed and frowning, for tumultuous thoughts
Crowded like night upon his heart; then waved
His hand. The barons, abbots, knights retire.
Behold him now alone! before a lamp
A crucifix appears; upon the ground
Lies the same sword that Hastings' battle dyed
Deep to the hilt in gore; behold, he kneels
And prays, Thou only, Lord, art ever great;
Have mercy on my sins! The crucifix
Shook as he spoke, shook visibly, and, hark!
There is a low moan, as of dying men,
At distance heard.
And knelt, then rising, placed the diadem
Upon his brow, with laurels intertwined.
Again the voice of acclamation rang,
And from the galleries a hundred harps
Resounded Roland's song! Long live the King!
The barons, and the prelates, and the knights,
Long live the Conqueror! cried; a god on earth!
That instant the high vaulted chamber shook
As with a blast from heaven, and all was mute
Around him, and the very fortress rocked,
As it would topple on their heads. He rose
Disturbed and frowning, for tumultuous thoughts
Crowded like night upon his heart; then waved
His hand. The barons, abbots, knights retire.
Behold him now alone! before a lamp
A crucifix appears; upon the ground
Lies the same sword that Hastings' battle dyed
Deep to the hilt in gore; behold, he kneels
And prays, Thou only, Lord, art ever great;
Have mercy on my sins! The crucifix
Shook as he spoke, shook visibly, and, hark!
There is a low moan, as of dying men,
At distance heard.
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Then William first knew fear.
He had heard tumults of the battle-field,
The noise, the glorious hurrahs, and the clang
Of trumpets round him, but no sound like this
Ere smote with unknown terror on his heart,
As if the eye of God that moment turned
And saw it beating.
He had heard tumults of the battle-field,
The noise, the glorious hurrahs, and the clang
Of trumpets round him, but no sound like this
Ere smote with unknown terror on his heart,
As if the eye of God that moment turned
And saw it beating.
Rising slow, he flung
Upon a couch his agitated limbs;
The lamp was near him; on the ground his sword
And helmet lay; short troubled slumbers stole,
And darkly rose the spirit of his dream.
Upon a couch his agitated limbs;
The lamp was near him; on the ground his sword
And helmet lay; short troubled slumbers stole,
And darkly rose the spirit of his dream.
He saw a field of blood,—it passed away;
A glittering palace rose, with mailed men
Thronged, and the voice of multitudes was heard
Acclaiming: suddenly the sounds had ceased,
The glittering palace vanished, and, behold!
Long winding cloisters, echoing to the chant
Of stoled fathers; and the mass-song ceased—
Then a dark tomb appeared, and, lo! a shape
As of a phantom-king!
A glittering palace rose, with mailed men
Thronged, and the voice of multitudes was heard
Acclaiming: suddenly the sounds had ceased,
The glittering palace vanished, and, behold!
Long winding cloisters, echoing to the chant
Of stoled fathers; and the mass-song ceased—
Then a dark tomb appeared, and, lo! a shape
As of a phantom-king!
Nearer it came,
And nearer yet, in silence, through the gloom.
Advancing—still advancing: the cold glare
Of armour shone as it approached, and now
It stands o'er William's couch! The spectre gazed
A while, then lifting its dark visor up—
Horrible vision!—shewed a grisly wound
Deep in its forehead, and therein appeared
Gouts, as yet dropping from an arrow's point
Infixed! And that red arrow's deadly barb
The shadow drew, and pointed at the breast
Of William; and the blood dropped on his breast;
And through his steely arms one drop of blood
Came cold as death's own hand upon his heart!
Whilst a deep voice was heard, Now sleep in peace,
I am avenged!
And nearer yet, in silence, through the gloom.
Advancing—still advancing: the cold glare
Of armour shone as it approached, and now
It stands o'er William's couch! The spectre gazed
A while, then lifting its dark visor up—
Horrible vision!—shewed a grisly wound
Deep in its forehead, and therein appeared
Gouts, as yet dropping from an arrow's point
Infixed! And that red arrow's deadly barb
The shadow drew, and pointed at the breast
Of William; and the blood dropped on his breast;
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Came cold as death's own hand upon his heart!
Whilst a deep voice was heard, Now sleep in peace,
I am avenged!
Starting, he exclaimed,
Hence, horrid phantom! Ho! Fitzalain, ho!
Montgomerie! Each baron, with a torch,
Before him stood. By dawn of day, he cried,
We will to horse. What passes in our thoughts
We shall unfold hereafter. By St Anne,
Albeit, not ten thousand phantoms sent
By the dead Harold can divert our course,
They may bear timely warning.
Hence, horrid phantom! Ho! Fitzalain, ho!
Montgomerie! Each baron, with a torch,
Before him stood. By dawn of day, he cried,
We will to horse. What passes in our thoughts
We shall unfold hereafter. By St Anne,
Albeit, not ten thousand phantoms sent
By the dead Harold can divert our course,
They may bear timely warning.
'Tis yet night—
Give me a battle-song ere daylight dawns;
The song of Roland, or of Charlemagne—
Or our own fight at Hastings.
Give me a battle-song ere daylight dawns;
The song of Roland, or of Charlemagne—
Or our own fight at Hastings.
Torches! ho!
And let the gallery blaze with lights! Awake,
Harpers of Normandy, awake! By Heaven,
I will not sleep till your full chords ring out
The song of England's conquest! Torches! ho!
He spoke. Again the blazing gallery
Echoed the harpers' song. Old Eustace led
The choir, and whilst the king paced to and fro,
Thus rose the bold, exulting symphony.
And let the gallery blaze with lights! Awake,
Harpers of Normandy, awake! By Heaven,
I will not sleep till your full chords ring out
The song of England's conquest! Torches! ho!
He spoke. Again the blazing gallery
Echoed the harpers' song. Old Eustace led
The choir, and whilst the king paced to and fro,
Thus rose the bold, exulting symphony.
SONG OF THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS.
The Norman armament beneath thy rocks, St Valerie,
Is moored; and, streaming to the morn, three hundred banners fly,
Of crimson silk; with golden cross, effulgent o'er the rest,
That banner, proudest in the fleet, streams, which the Lord had blessed.
The gale is fair, the sails are set, cheerily the south wind blows,
And Norman archers, all in steel, have grasped their good yew-bows;
Aloud the harpers strike their harps, whilst morning light is flung
Upon the cross-bows and the shields, that round the masts are hung.
Speed on, ye brave! 'tis William leads; bold barons, at his word,
Lo! sixty thousand men of might for William draw the sword.
Is moored; and, streaming to the morn, three hundred banners fly,
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That banner, proudest in the fleet, streams, which the Lord had blessed.
The gale is fair, the sails are set, cheerily the south wind blows,
And Norman archers, all in steel, have grasped their good yew-bows;
Aloud the harpers strike their harps, whilst morning light is flung
Upon the cross-bows and the shields, that round the masts are hung.
Speed on, ye brave! 'tis William leads; bold barons, at his word,
Lo! sixty thousand men of might for William draw the sword.
So, bound to England's southern shore, we rolled upon the seas,
And gallantly the white sails set were, and swelling to the breeze.
On, on, to victory or death! now rose the general cry;
The minstrels sang, On, on, ye brave, to death or victory!
Mark yonder ship, how straight she steers; ye knights and barons brave,
'Tis William's ship, and proud she rides, the foremost o'er the wave.
And now we hailed the English coast, and, lo! on Beachy Head,
The radiance of the setting sun majestical is shed.
The fleet sailed on, till, Pevensey! we saw thy welcome strand;
Duke William now his anchor casts, and dauntless leaps to land.
And gallantly the white sails set were, and swelling to the breeze.
On, on, to victory or death! now rose the general cry;
The minstrels sang, On, on, ye brave, to death or victory!
Mark yonder ship, how straight she steers; ye knights and barons brave,
'Tis William's ship, and proud she rides, the foremost o'er the wave.
And now we hailed the English coast, and, lo! on Beachy Head,
The radiance of the setting sun majestical is shed.
The fleet sailed on, till, Pevensey! we saw thy welcome strand;
Duke William now his anchor casts, and dauntless leaps to land.
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The English host, by Harold led, at length appear in sight,
And now they raise a deafening shout, and stand prepared for fight;
The hostile legions halt a while, and their long lines display,
Now front to front they stand, in still and terrible array.
Give out the word, God, and our right! rush like a storm along,
Lift up God's banner, and advance, resounding Roland's song!
Ye spearmen, poise your lances well, by brave Montgomerie led,
Ye archers, bend your bows, and draw your arrows to the head.
They draw—the bent bows ring—huzzah! another flight, and hark!
How the sharp arrowy shower beneath the sun goes hissing dark.
And now they raise a deafening shout, and stand prepared for fight;
The hostile legions halt a while, and their long lines display,
Now front to front they stand, in still and terrible array.
Give out the word, God, and our right! rush like a storm along,
Lift up God's banner, and advance, resounding Roland's song!
Ye spearmen, poise your lances well, by brave Montgomerie led,
Ye archers, bend your bows, and draw your arrows to the head.
They draw—the bent bows ring—huzzah! another flight, and hark!
How the sharp arrowy shower beneath the sun goes hissing dark.
Hark! louder grows the deadly strife, till all the battle-plain
Is red with blood, and heaped around with men and horses slain.
On, Normans, on! Duke William cried, and Harold, tremble thou,
Now think upon thy perjury, and of thy broken vow.
The banner of thy armed knight, thy shield, thy helm are vain—
The fatal shaft has sped,—by Heaven! it hisses in his brain!
So William won the English crown, and all his foemen beat,
And Harold, and his Britons brave, lay silent at his feet.
Is red with blood, and heaped around with men and horses slain.
On, Normans, on! Duke William cried, and Harold, tremble thou,
Now think upon thy perjury, and of thy broken vow.
The banner of thy armed knight, thy shield, thy helm are vain—
The fatal shaft has sped,—by Heaven! it hisses in his brain!
So William won the English crown, and all his foemen beat,
And Harold, and his Britons brave, lay silent at his feet.
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Enough! the day is breaking, cried the King:
Away! away! be armed at my side,
Without attendants, and to horse, to horse!
Away! away! be armed at my side,
Without attendants, and to horse, to horse!
| The poetical works of William Lisle Bowles | |