Tasso and the Sisters Tasso's Spirit: The Nuptials of Juno: The Skeletons: The Spirits of the Ocean. Poems, By Thomas Wade |
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'Twas War's first note, announcing grief to come,
When tears should answer to the muffle-drum,
And Love's pale cheek be pillow'd on the sod
Where once her Warrior and her Hero trod,
Till the stroke fell and it became a grave
For hearts to bleed o'er and for tears to lave.
The trumpet blew—and, soon, from land to land
Past dauntless millions, arm'd with spear and brand;
And helm and cuirass gleam'd o'er many a field
From heads and bosoms that ne'er deign'd to yield:—
And haughty steeds, that shar'd their riders' lust
For blood and conquest, spurn'd the subject dust,
And neigh'd exultingly, whilst gun and sword
Did their base bidding at a Tyrant's word.
All Earth was terror:—streams of sable gore
Died the deep sands of each contested shore—
Whole cities blaz'd, and Ruin, far and wide,
Display'd the folly of Man's hell-sprung pride.
The beauty of the world was soon destroy'd,
And Nature's thrones became a blighted void;—
Where verdure laugh'd, and fields of dark'ning gold,
Beneath the pinions of the breezes, roll'd;
Where flow'rs look'd forth upon the tearful morn,
Drest in their colors bright and newly born;
Where streamlets sweetly murmur'd in the sun
And proudly seem'd 'mid scenes so fair to run;
—All, all grew desolate; nor could the ground
Supply with food the beasts that wander'd round;
But all in hunger made their piteous moan,
And the Earth satisfied the worm alone.
Wild grief shed burning tears:—where late the sire
Had seen his young hope, with an eye of fire,
Demand the strife sublime, was now a tomb,
O'er which the father mourn'd his offspring's doom.
Old matrons were made childless; beauteous eyes
Of girls upbraided the unpitying skies,
Or wept in resignation, till the cheek
Grew cold with thoughts that have no pow'r to speak.
Strife rose and spread, till every hill and plain
Groan'd with the loathsome weight of warriors slain,
And Death swept onward in his shadowy car
To feast triumphant at the heels of War!
When tears should answer to the muffle-drum,
And Love's pale cheek be pillow'd on the sod
Where once her Warrior and her Hero trod,
Till the stroke fell and it became a grave
For hearts to bleed o'er and for tears to lave.
The trumpet blew—and, soon, from land to land
Past dauntless millions, arm'd with spear and brand;
And helm and cuirass gleam'd o'er many a field
From heads and bosoms that ne'er deign'd to yield:—
And haughty steeds, that shar'd their riders' lust
For blood and conquest, spurn'd the subject dust,
And neigh'd exultingly, whilst gun and sword
Did their base bidding at a Tyrant's word.
All Earth was terror:—streams of sable gore
Died the deep sands of each contested shore—
Whole cities blaz'd, and Ruin, far and wide,
Display'd the folly of Man's hell-sprung pride.
The beauty of the world was soon destroy'd,
And Nature's thrones became a blighted void;—
Where verdure laugh'd, and fields of dark'ning gold,
Beneath the pinions of the breezes, roll'd;
Where flow'rs look'd forth upon the tearful morn,
Drest in their colors bright and newly born;
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And proudly seem'd 'mid scenes so fair to run;
—All, all grew desolate; nor could the ground
Supply with food the beasts that wander'd round;
But all in hunger made their piteous moan,
And the Earth satisfied the worm alone.
Wild grief shed burning tears:—where late the sire
Had seen his young hope, with an eye of fire,
Demand the strife sublime, was now a tomb,
O'er which the father mourn'd his offspring's doom.
Old matrons were made childless; beauteous eyes
Of girls upbraided the unpitying skies,
Or wept in resignation, till the cheek
Grew cold with thoughts that have no pow'r to speak.
Strife rose and spread, till every hill and plain
Groan'd with the loathsome weight of warriors slain,
And Death swept onward in his shadowy car
To feast triumphant at the heels of War!
| Tasso and the Sisters | |