Peace and war An Ode. By William Allingham. Reprinted, by permission, from the "Daily News." |
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 | Peace and war |  |
III.
But through the stillness I can hear,
With an awe which is not fear,
The tread of multitudinous hosts,
From many regions; from the coasts
Of ice and pine, from endless plains,
Great river banks, and mountain chains,
And unknown cities, wide apart:
And—like the pulses of the heart
Heard in the solemn night—there sounds
A swelling murmur from the bounds
Of ancient fame; high Caucasus,
And deep Euphrates, and hot sand
Of hoary Nile; and, guarded thus,
Pinnacles of imperial pride,
Enthroned upon their narrow tide,
The gateway of a glorious land.
With an awe which is not fear,
The tread of multitudinous hosts,
From many regions; from the coasts
Of ice and pine, from endless plains,
Great river banks, and mountain chains,
And unknown cities, wide apart:
And—like the pulses of the heart
Heard in the solemn night—there sounds
A swelling murmur from the bounds
Of ancient fame; high Caucasus,
And deep Euphrates, and hot sand
Of hoary Nile; and, guarded thus,
Pinnacles of imperial pride,
Enthroned upon their narrow tide,
The gateway of a glorious land.
Nor hath the Sea no utterance, save
The wandering voices of her wind and wave:
Vast engineries, whereto in bulk and might
Her native monsters are as flakes of froth,
In leagued and irresistible array
Hiss through the startled waters, stored with wrath,
Or spit swift fire with slow portentous boom,
Heard from the Danube to the Georgian bay,
And echoed in far northern palace-room—
To rage in bloody thunder at the sign of doom.
The wandering voices of her wind and wave:
Vast engineries, whereto in bulk and might
Her native monsters are as flakes of froth,
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Hiss through the startled waters, stored with wrath,
Or spit swift fire with slow portentous boom,
Heard from the Danube to the Georgian bay,
And echoed in far northern palace-room—
To rage in bloody thunder at the sign of doom.
| Peace and war | |