Poems Chiefly Written in Retirement, By John Thelwall; With Memoirs of the Life of the Author. Second Edition |
 |
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
 | Poems |  |
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.
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.
| Poems | |