The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly In Two Volumes |
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 | The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly |  |
III.
Spirits who sit in glory! if ye brook
To look below, 't is on such hours ye look.
The round of fate was sweeping; woe or joy
To millions hung on that Imperial boy;
Earth's furthest bound, earth's final age might feel
This moment's impulse of the mighty wheel.
If angels sorrow, deathless eyes were wan
That midnight for the blighted hopes of man.
To look below, 't is on such hours ye look.
The round of fate was sweeping; woe or joy
To millions hung on that Imperial boy;
Earth's furthest bound, earth's final age might feel
This moment's impulse of the mighty wheel.
321
That midnight for the blighted hopes of man.
There lies posterity! that babe belong'd
To times still coming, when our forms had throng'd
The populous grave. Of all the myriad eyes
Once fix'd to see his star of empire rise,
Not one might see his height, all must be laid
Beamless, ere nature plunged his orb in shade;
A hundred years of change, and still his hand
Might hold the changeless sceptre, crush, command;
What miracles beyond life's broadest span,
Might by that mind be wrought for earth and man!
All sunk at once in that dead babe—subdued,
Collapsed, the whole proud, vast vicissitude!
To times still coming, when our forms had throng'd
The populous grave. Of all the myriad eyes
Once fix'd to see his star of empire rise,
Not one might see his height, all must be laid
Beamless, ere nature plunged his orb in shade;
A hundred years of change, and still his hand
Might hold the changeless sceptre, crush, command;
What miracles beyond life's broadest span,
Might by that mind be wrought for earth and man!
All sunk at once in that dead babe—subdued,
Collapsed, the whole proud, vast vicissitude!
Time will not sleep; the storm has left a tide;
The pestilence has but slept, it has not died!
The fire ferments below, it yet shall blaze—
Earth shall have one wild pang ere it decays.
One evil throne has sunk, a mightier ban
Shall rise with darker vengeance against man!
And must the nations perish, till, once more,
The encountering signs, the red-cross standards soar?
All lost or saved, as one brave heart shall spring
To the world's breach, our children's children's king!
But thou! thy laurel's planted in the grave,
Thou 'lt sleep while earth is rocking like a wave.
Yet many a brow that wore the golden round
Might wish its sleep as early and as sound:
Earth brought to thee, pale child, nor grief, nor stain;
Death was release, the breaking of a chain;
Summon'd to life without life's suffering,
A moment loosed for Heaven the spirit's wing.
The pestilence has but slept, it has not died!
The fire ferments below, it yet shall blaze—
Earth shall have one wild pang ere it decays.
322
Shall rise with darker vengeance against man!
And must the nations perish, till, once more,
The encountering signs, the red-cross standards soar?
All lost or saved, as one brave heart shall spring
To the world's breach, our children's children's king!
But thou! thy laurel's planted in the grave,
Thou 'lt sleep while earth is rocking like a wave.
Yet many a brow that wore the golden round
Might wish its sleep as early and as sound:
Earth brought to thee, pale child, nor grief, nor stain;
Death was release, the breaking of a chain;
Summon'd to life without life's suffering,
A moment loosed for Heaven the spirit's wing.
| The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly | |