The poetical works of Leigh Hunt Now finally collected, revised by himself, and edited by his son, Thornton Hunt. With illustrations by Corbould |
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 | The poetical works of Leigh Hunt |  |
VI. OF CAPTAIN PEN, AND HOW HE FOUGHT WITH CAPTAIN SWORD.
Now tidings of Captain Sword and his state
Were brought to the ears of Pen the Great,
Who rose and said, “His time is come.”
And he sent him, but not by sound of drum,
Nor trumpet, nor other hasty breath,
Hot with questions of life and death,
But only a letter calm and mild;
And Captain Sword he read it, and smiled,
And said, half in scorn, and nothing in fear,
(Though his wits seem'd restor'd by a danger near,
For brave was he ever), “Let Captain Pen,
Bring at his back a million men,
And I'll talk with his wisdom, and not till then.”
Then replied to his messenger Captain Pen,
“I'll bring at my back a world of men.”
Were brought to the ears of Pen the Great,
Who rose and said, “His time is come.”
And he sent him, but not by sound of drum,
Nor trumpet, nor other hasty breath,
Hot with questions of life and death,
But only a letter calm and mild;
And Captain Sword he read it, and smiled,
And said, half in scorn, and nothing in fear,
(Though his wits seem'd restor'd by a danger near,
For brave was he ever), “Let Captain Pen,
Bring at his back a million men,
And I'll talk with his wisdom, and not till then.”
Then replied to his messenger Captain Pen,
“I'll bring at my back a world of men.”
Out laugh'd the captains of Captain Sword,
But their chief look'd vex'd, and said not a word,
For thought and trouble had touch'd his ears
Beyond the bullet-like sense of theirs,
And wherever he went, he was 'ware of a sound
Now heard in the distance, now gathering round,
Which irk'd him to know what the issue might be;
But the soul of the cause of it well guess'd he.
But their chief look'd vex'd, and said not a word,
For thought and trouble had touch'd his ears
Beyond the bullet-like sense of theirs,
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Now heard in the distance, now gathering round,
Which irk'd him to know what the issue might be;
But the soul of the cause of it well guess'd he.
Indestructible souls among men
Were the souls of the line of Captain Pen;
Sages, patriots, martyrs mild,
Going to the stake, as child
Goeth with his prayer to bed;
Dungeon-beams, from quenchless head;
Poets, making earth aware
Of its wealth in good and fair;
And the benders to their intent,
Of metal and of element;
Of flame the enlightener, beauteous,
And steam, that bursteth his iron house;
And adamantine giants blind,
That, without master, have no mind.
Were the souls of the line of Captain Pen;
Sages, patriots, martyrs mild,
Going to the stake, as child
Goeth with his prayer to bed;
Dungeon-beams, from quenchless head;
Poets, making earth aware
Of its wealth in good and fair;
And the benders to their intent,
Of metal and of element;
Of flame the enlightener, beauteous,
And steam, that bursteth his iron house;
And adamantine giants blind,
That, without master, have no mind.
Heir to these, and all their store,
Was Pen, the power unknown of yore;
And as their might still created might,
And each work'd for him by day and by night,
In wealth and wondrous means he grew,
Fit to move the earth anew;
Till his fame began to speak
Pause, as when the thunders wake,
Muttering in the beds of heaven:
Then, to set the globe more even,
Water he call'd, and Fire, and Haste,
Which hath left old Time displaced—
And Iron, mightiest now for Pen,
Each of his steps like an army of men—
(Sword little knew what was leaving him then)
And out of the witchcraft of their skill,
A creature he call'd to wait on his will—
Half iron, half vapour, a dread to behold—
Which evermore panted and evermore roll'd,
And uttered his words a million fold.
Forth sprang they in air, down raining like dew,
And men fed upon them, and mighty they grew.
Was Pen, the power unknown of yore;
And as their might still created might,
And each work'd for him by day and by night,
In wealth and wondrous means he grew,
Fit to move the earth anew;
Till his fame began to speak
Pause, as when the thunders wake,
Muttering in the beds of heaven:
Then, to set the globe more even,
Water he call'd, and Fire, and Haste,
Which hath left old Time displaced—
And Iron, mightiest now for Pen,
Each of his steps like an army of men—
(Sword little knew what was leaving him then)
And out of the witchcraft of their skill,
A creature he call'd to wait on his will—
Half iron, half vapour, a dread to behold—
Which evermore panted and evermore roll'd,
And uttered his words a million fold.
122
And men fed upon them, and mighty they grew.
Ears giddy with custom that sound might not hear,
But it woke up the rest, like an earthquake near;
And that same night of the letter, some strange
Compulsion of soul brought a sense of change;
And at midnight the sound grew into a roll
As the sound of all gath'rings from pole to pole,
From pole unto pole, and from clime to clime,
Like the roll of the wheels of the coming of time;—
A sound as of cities, and sound as of swords
Sharpening, and solemn and terrible words,
And laughter as solemn, and thunderous drumming,
A tread as if all the world were coming.
And then was a lull, and soft voices sweet
Call'd into music those terrible feet,
Which rising on wings, lo! the earth went round
To the burn of their speed with a golden sound;
With a golden sound, and a swift repose,
Such as the blood in the young heart knows;
Such as Love knows, when his tumults cease;
When all is quick, and yet all is at peace.
But it woke up the rest, like an earthquake near;
And that same night of the letter, some strange
Compulsion of soul brought a sense of change;
And at midnight the sound grew into a roll
As the sound of all gath'rings from pole to pole,
From pole unto pole, and from clime to clime,
Like the roll of the wheels of the coming of time;—
A sound as of cities, and sound as of swords
Sharpening, and solemn and terrible words,
And laughter as solemn, and thunderous drumming,
A tread as if all the world were coming.
And then was a lull, and soft voices sweet
Call'd into music those terrible feet,
Which rising on wings, lo! the earth went round
To the burn of their speed with a golden sound;
With a golden sound, and a swift repose,
Such as the blood in the young heart knows;
Such as Love knows, when his tumults cease;
When all is quick, and yet all is at peace.
And when Captain Sword got up next morn,
Lo! a new-faced world was born;
For not an anger nor pride would it show,
Nor aught of the loftiness now found low,
Nor would his own men strike a single blow:
Not a blow for their old, unconsidering lord
Would strike the good soldiers of Captain Sword;
But weaponless all, and wise they stood,
In the level dawn, and calm brotherly good;
Yet bowed to him they, and kiss'd his hands,
For such were their new good lord's commands,
Lessons rather, and brotherly plea;
Reverence the past, O brothers, quoth he;
Reverence the struggle and mystery,
And faces human in their pain;
Nor his the least that could sustain
Cares of mighty wars, and guide
Calmly where the red deaths ride.
Lo! a new-faced world was born;
For not an anger nor pride would it show,
Nor aught of the loftiness now found low,
Nor would his own men strike a single blow:
Not a blow for their old, unconsidering lord
Would strike the good soldiers of Captain Sword;
But weaponless all, and wise they stood,
In the level dawn, and calm brotherly good;
Yet bowed to him they, and kiss'd his hands,
For such were their new good lord's commands,
Lessons rather, and brotherly plea;
Reverence the past, O brothers, quoth he;
Reverence the struggle and mystery,
And faces human in their pain;
Nor his the least that could sustain
Cares of mighty wars, and guide
Calmly where the red deaths ride.
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“But how! what now?” cried Captain Sword;
“Not a blow for your gen'ral? not even a word?
What! traitors? deserters?”
“Not a blow for your gen'ral? not even a word?
What! traitors? deserters?”
“Ah no!” cried they;
“But the ‘game's’ at an end; the ‘wise’ won't play.”
“But the ‘game's’ at an end; the ‘wise’ won't play.”
“And where's your old spirit?”
“The same, though another;
Man may be strong without maiming his brother.”
Man may be strong without maiming his brother.”
“But enemies?”
“Enemies! Whence should they come,
When all interchange what was but known to some?”
When all interchange what was but known to some?”
“But famine? but plague? worse evils by far.”
“O last mighty rhet'ric to charm us to war!
Look round—what has earth, now it equably speeds,
To do with these foul and calamitous needs?
Now it equably speeds, and thoughtfully glows,
And its heart is open, never to close?”
Look round—what has earth, now it equably speeds,
To do with these foul and calamitous needs?
Now it equably speeds, and thoughtfully glows,
And its heart is open, never to close?”
“Still I can govern,” said Captain Sword;
“Fate I respect; and I stick to my word.”
And in truth so he did; but the word was one
He had sworn to all vanities under the sun,
To do, for their conq'rors, the least could be done.
Besides, what had he with his worn-out story,
To do with the cause he had wrong'd, and the glory?
“Fate I respect; and I stick to my word.”
And in truth so he did; but the word was one
He had sworn to all vanities under the sun,
To do, for their conq'rors, the least could be done.
Besides, what had he with his worn-out story,
To do with the cause he had wrong'd, and the glory?
No! Captain Sword a sword was still,
He could not unteach his lordly will;
He could not attemper his single thought;
It might not be bent, nor newly wrought:
And so, like the tool of a disused art,
He stood at his wall, and rusted apart.
He could not unteach his lordly will;
He could not attemper his single thought;
It might not be bent, nor newly wrought:
And so, like the tool of a disused art,
He stood at his wall, and rusted apart.
'Twas only for many-soul'd Captain Pen
To make a world of swordless men.
To make a world of swordless men.
| The poetical works of Leigh Hunt | |