Poems Chiefly Written in Retirement, By John Thelwall; With Memoirs of the Life of the Author. Second Edition |
 |
 |
|
|
|
| 1. | BOOK THE FIRST. |
| 2. |
 | Poems |  |
179
BOOK THE FIRST.
NORTHUMBRIA freed, and Edwin's patriot worthMy verse records; his wanderings, and his woes,
His martial ardour, and his faithful loves:
How these, by powerful destiny, combin'd
To form The Hero; who by virtue rose
Superior to the fratricidal rage
That sought his life, insatiate, and his youth
Doom'd to disastrous exile; till arous'd
To final effort, he their traitorous wiles
Turn'd on the traitors' heads; and, from the strife
Of feuds and deadly factions, haply wrought
A nation's bliss: whence union, wisdom, power,
Spread thro' The Seven-fold Isle; and cheering lights
Of Holy Truth—and Liberty, and Laws.
180
(Sacred, or classic) thou delight'st to hear
The votive salutation, O! attend,
From those empyreal regions where thou sitt'st,
Among the ministering seraphim enthron'd
Who guard our sea-girt realm; and, by the side
Of Albion, awful in cerulean robe,
Shar'st (from primeval time) the trust conferr'd
Of heav'nly tutelage; with helmed brow
And missile thunder, from the horrent shores
Chacing invasive Ravage; or the breast
Of mission'd Patriot with sublimest rage,
In perilous hour, inspiring, to confound
Inborn Oppression, with triumphant arm,
Or martyrdom more glorious. Thee I call,
That, in the wrong'd Northumbrian's dauntless soul
Breathing ethereal energy, inform'd
His mind to worth and wisdom; such as ne'er
Beam'd in his darker age; nor ever warm'd
Chieftain, or sage, or hero of this isle,
Anglian or British, till, in after times,
Ina and Alfred in his godlike steps
Trod reverent; and, by his example fir'd,
Tower'd to immortal fame. O! then, descend,
Seraphic ardour! from thy starry throne—
My theme's appropriate patron!—As to thee
Belongs The Hero, so inspire The Song.
Nor You, ye plastic powers! that, round the hearts
Of youthful lovers, weave the mystic web
Of sacred Sympathy—nor YE disdain
181
The trump sonorous, and the melting flute
Shall breathe alternate strains, and love, and war—
The social feeling, and the public care,
Each in appropriate numbers, sway the heart.
NOW since Deïrian Acca, bath'd in blood
Of holy patriots, with her tyrant lord,
Bernicia's warlike chief, not less by crimes
Than nuptial vows united, o'er the realm
Of joint Northumbria (in like sufferance join'd—
In groans, and equal bondage) wielded first
Their iron sceptre, many a sickening sun
Had to decrepit Winter's ruthless sway
Yielded our northering zone; while, fierce of soul,
Collected in his empire's double strength,
And form'd for martial enterprise, the chief
Led forth his veteran bands to many a field
Of blood-stain'd triumph, and enlarg'd his bounds
With vanquish'd vassalage. So stood the throne—
Powerful in wrongs, and terrible in arms,
And shook the circling states; while Tyranny
Tower'd to prescriptive right; as tho secure
In tacit confirmation: if secure
Pow'r could be deem'd, or Domination stand,
Unpropt of Justice. But the sense of guilt
Intrudes, unceasing; and the injurious pair,
Palsied with conscious terrors, inly pine,
Brooding strange thoughts, with jealous frenzy big,
And murderous precaution. But, o'er all,
Their guilty terrors, and fierce hate pursue
An exil'd brother, from Deïria's throne
Expell'd by treason; and by treason doom'd
To infant massacre: but doom'd in vain:
In vain had Bebba's towers (in riper years)
Enclos'd the shipwreck'd wanderer—preserv'd
By Chance, or favouring Providence, to thorn
Oppression's couch with terrors—or to hurl
(Such visions mar their slumbers) on their heads
The bolts of retribution.
Of holy patriots, with her tyrant lord,
Bernicia's warlike chief, not less by crimes
Than nuptial vows united, o'er the realm
Of joint Northumbria (in like sufferance join'd—
In groans, and equal bondage) wielded first
Their iron sceptre, many a sickening sun
Had to decrepit Winter's ruthless sway
Yielded our northering zone; while, fierce of soul,
Collected in his empire's double strength,
And form'd for martial enterprise, the chief
Led forth his veteran bands to many a field
Of blood-stain'd triumph, and enlarg'd his bounds
With vanquish'd vassalage. So stood the throne—
Powerful in wrongs, and terrible in arms,
And shook the circling states; while Tyranny
Tower'd to prescriptive right; as tho secure
In tacit confirmation: if secure
Pow'r could be deem'd, or Domination stand,
Unpropt of Justice. But the sense of guilt
Intrudes, unceasing; and the injurious pair,
Palsied with conscious terrors, inly pine,
Brooding strange thoughts, with jealous frenzy big,
And murderous precaution. But, o'er all,
Their guilty terrors, and fierce hate pursue
182
Expell'd by treason; and by treason doom'd
To infant massacre: but doom'd in vain:
In vain had Bebba's towers (in riper years)
Enclos'd the shipwreck'd wanderer—preserv'd
By Chance, or favouring Providence, to thorn
Oppression's couch with terrors—or to hurl
(Such visions mar their slumbers) on their heads
The bolts of retribution.
HE, the while,
Escap'd from countless snares, thro' toils unheard
And many a fearful conflict, unappall'd,
Observant rov'd, thro' many an adverse realm,
Hostile or kindred—where Diganway's tow'rs
O'erlook blue Conway, and the headlong streams
Water the Cambrian Vallies! or where, flow,
With silver lapse, the Anglian rivers pour
Their southern tribute; or, impell'd by Fate,
Athwart the Scythian Vale, where Erin's chiefs,
From bogs, and lakes, and mountains, their rough clans,
Martial, collect, and, over wicker towns,
And hurdled cots, hold a precarious sway.
So roam'd The Hero: such his joyless youth:
Escap'd from countless snares, thro' toils unheard
And many a fearful conflict, unappall'd,
Observant rov'd, thro' many an adverse realm,
Hostile or kindred—where Diganway's tow'rs
O'erlook blue Conway, and the headlong streams
Water the Cambrian Vallies! or where, flow,
With silver lapse, the Anglian rivers pour
Their southern tribute; or, impell'd by Fate,
Athwart the Scythian Vale, where Erin's chiefs,
From bogs, and lakes, and mountains, their rough clans,
Martial, collect, and, over wicker towns,
And hurdled cots, hold a precarious sway.
His early manhood such: wherever thrown,
In every region—every soil and clime—
In every scene, with unremitting ills
Hemm'd and pursu'd: in dangers, and in woes.
Say then (Ethereal Patron of my Song!—
My soul's best guide!) for what mysterious end
His worth, unstaid by interposing Heav'n,
Thus mourn'd disastrous?
My soul's best guide!) for what mysterious end
His worth, unstaid by interposing Heav'n,
Thus mourn'd disastrous?
For a nation's weal—
For Albion's glory; yet in barbarous gloom
Involv'd, and savage violence, and wrongs—
Unknown to arts and polity—till he
(Sage from well-during sufferance) shall arise—
Freedom's first prototype: the first to found
The sacred dome of Justice. Thence his youth
And spring of early manhood, unsustain'd
By prop or ministry (save one weak old man—
His sometime guardian,) bends beneath the wrath
Of adverse Destiny: what time his mind,
School'd by The Chastening Seraph, spreads, enlarg'd
In wisdom as in virtue; and attains
Ingenuous fortitude: alternate taught
To pity and to dare.
183
Involv'd, and savage violence, and wrongs—
Unknown to arts and polity—till he
(Sage from well-during sufferance) shall arise—
Freedom's first prototype: the first to found
The sacred dome of Justice. Thence his youth
And spring of early manhood, unsustain'd
By prop or ministry (save one weak old man—
His sometime guardian,) bends beneath the wrath
Of adverse Destiny: what time his mind,
School'd by The Chastening Seraph, spreads, enlarg'd
In wisdom as in virtue; and attains
Ingenuous fortitude: alternate taught
To pity and to dare.
But now, awhile,—
As tho some kindly power, from astral heights
Beam'd brief benignity, his wearied worth
In Redowald's court respires. Red'wald the good—
Might goodness without fortitude reside
In human bosom. He the East-Anglian throne
Fill'd with a patriot's wish; and many a plan
Of wisdom and beneficence devis'd
In meditation's hour: but his weak grasp
Pois'd not the sceptre's weight—on favourites oft
Or female hands devolv'd. Such was the chief
To whom (since now twelve chang'ling moons had fill'd
Their horns, as oft retiring) Ælla's Son
Had fled for refuge, that no roof beside
Nor Earth, nor Ocean, nor the cavern's depth,
Might to his sorrows yield. [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
As tho some kindly power, from astral heights
Beam'd brief benignity, his wearied worth
In Redowald's court respires. Red'wald the good—
Might goodness without fortitude reside
In human bosom. He the East-Anglian throne
Fill'd with a patriot's wish; and many a plan
Of wisdom and beneficence devis'd
In meditation's hour: but his weak grasp
Pois'd not the sceptre's weight—on favourites oft
Or female hands devolv'd. Such was the chief
To whom (since now twelve chang'ling moons had fill'd
Their horns, as oft retiring) Ælla's Son
Had fled for refuge, that no roof beside
Nor Earth, nor Ocean, nor the cavern's depth,
Might to his sorrows yield. [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
| Poems | |