The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth With Sixteen Illustrations. By Philip Gilbert Hamerton |
 |
|
 |
|
THE ALLIES IN THE CRYSTAL PALACE. |
|
 | The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth |  |
315
THE ALLIES IN THE CRYSTAL PALACE.
April 20th, 1855.
Down from his niche with England's Queens and Kings
Looked Cromwell on a strange event to-day;
For under the broad shadow of the screen
There passed a ruler, who, like him, had pressed
And edged his way into the foremost rank
Amongst the heirs of thrones.
Looked Cromwell on a strange event to-day;
For under the broad shadow of the screen
There passed a ruler, who, like him, had pressed
And edged his way into the foremost rank
Amongst the heirs of thrones.
He passed along;
And at his side there walked a regnant Queen,
Fair England leaning on the arm of France,
Allied for war—our Queen with Bonaparte!
And after them their consorts, and the train
Of courtiers who attach themselves to crowns.
And at his side there walked a regnant Queen,
Fair England leaning on the arm of France,
Allied for war—our Queen with Bonaparte!
And after them their consorts, and the train
Of courtiers who attach themselves to crowns.
Then down the long perspective of the nave
They looked, and every detail in the sun
Became a sparkling gem—the marble pools,
With tall glass fountains, under whose bright showers
Refreshed and cool, young water-lilies float—
Green orange-trees in stately avenues—
White statues shining out against the green,
And the rich crimson cloth upon the floor,
With the aërial tinting of the roof,
And the deep blue of heaven over all,
Made it a feast of colour.
They looked, and every detail in the sun
Became a sparkling gem—the marble pools,
With tall glass fountains, under whose bright showers
316
Green orange-trees in stately avenues—
White statues shining out against the green,
And the rich crimson cloth upon the floor,
With the aërial tinting of the roof,
And the deep blue of heaven over all,
Made it a feast of colour.
By the marge
Along the pool of lilies they passed on,
Into that lovely dwelling which was built
To show the people how in former time,
Before volcanic ashes made a tomb
Of their gay town, the old Pompeians lived.
Upon the threshold, in mosaic stones
Set in the pavement, stands a furious dog;
And, underneath, the legend “Cave canem.”
But in the other entrances you meet
A kinder welcome—“Salve!” In the hall,
Beneath the oblong opening in the roof,
Through which the sunlight falls, a shallow pool
Of marble holds the rain and cools the house:
It is so clear and shallow, that you see
Its fair mosaics bright with many hues
Of coloured marbles—there the gold fish swims.
Close to this pool a graceful statue stands.
Most delicate and fanciful, and light
Are all the decorations; every hue
Intense and brilliant. Round the entrance-hall
Are little cells to sleep in—such confined
And narrow chambers as you rarely see.
They did not know the luxury of sleep,
Because their days were bright; but we, to whom
The very beams of day are thick with cares,
Build spacious chambers for the rest we love.
Past the great hall, and at the other end
Of this strange mansion, is the peristyle—
A hall of columns with a little garden,
A little, lovely garden of four beds,
Brilliant with many hyacinths; and there
Amongst the flowers a white fawn stands for ever,
And to its nostrils sweetest odours rise;
And still it feeds not.
Along the pool of lilies they passed on,
Into that lovely dwelling which was built
To show the people how in former time,
Before volcanic ashes made a tomb
Of their gay town, the old Pompeians lived.
Upon the threshold, in mosaic stones
Set in the pavement, stands a furious dog;
And, underneath, the legend “Cave canem.”
But in the other entrances you meet
A kinder welcome—“Salve!” In the hall,
Beneath the oblong opening in the roof,
Through which the sunlight falls, a shallow pool
Of marble holds the rain and cools the house:
It is so clear and shallow, that you see
Its fair mosaics bright with many hues
Of coloured marbles—there the gold fish swims.
Close to this pool a graceful statue stands.
Most delicate and fanciful, and light
Are all the decorations; every hue
Intense and brilliant. Round the entrance-hall
317
And narrow chambers as you rarely see.
They did not know the luxury of sleep,
Because their days were bright; but we, to whom
The very beams of day are thick with cares,
Build spacious chambers for the rest we love.
Past the great hall, and at the other end
Of this strange mansion, is the peristyle—
A hall of columns with a little garden,
A little, lovely garden of four beds,
Brilliant with many hyacinths; and there
Amongst the flowers a white fawn stands for ever,
And to its nostrils sweetest odours rise;
And still it feeds not.
In the dining-room
The couches are all ready for the guests;
But we are of another place and time,
And may not banquet with the unseen host
Of this fair mansion whom our fancy paints.
The couches are all ready for the guests;
But we are of another place and time,
And may not banquet with the unseen host
Of this fair mansion whom our fancy paints.
Thence to the Central Transept, where the roof
Springs nearest heaven; and through its arch the sun
Looks on the great Twin Brethren—mighty forms—
Rugged—colossal—they who hold their steeds
In the vast transept, those white steeds of war,
Which at the Lake Regillus did appear,
Bearing their princely riders to the fight,
When gods allied with Rome, as legends tell.
Then down the transept to the balcony
That overlooks the gardens. When they came,
The monarchs and their consorts, to receive
The greetings of the people, such a sight
As they beheld no monarch's eye before
Had ever witnessed. All the sloping hill
Beneath laid out in spacious terraces,
With marble statues on the balustrades
At intervals, and great broad flights of stairs,
And two long wings projecting at each side
That end in lofty towers transparent, light,
And crystalline, the colour of the sky.
Then on the spacious terraces the throng
Of twenty thousand people, gaily dressed
In festal garments, raised a mighty shout
Of welcome to the Emperor!—loud cheers
That rose and fell with glorious energy!
And all that surging sea of human life
Ceased not its deep-voiced music of applause
Whilst he stood gazing from the balcony
Upon the scene before him. Rich and broad
The landscape spread—the air so clear and bright,
That every detail was distinctly seen,
Even to the spires of distant villages
That slept in the deep woodlands far away.
Napoleon's hardness yielded, and the face
Of his sweet Empress beamed with radiant smiles.
It was indeed an animating sight,
Most full of life and sunshine, when the bands
Upon the terrace played the song of France,
Composed, they say, by Queen Hortense, whose son
Stood listening to the old familiar air
At that proud moment; and his mother's voice
Came sweetly with those grand, triumphant notes.
Springs nearest heaven; and through its arch the sun
Looks on the great Twin Brethren—mighty forms—
Rugged—colossal—they who hold their steeds
In the vast transept, those white steeds of war,
Which at the Lake Regillus did appear,
Bearing their princely riders to the fight,
When gods allied with Rome, as legends tell.
318
That overlooks the gardens. When they came,
The monarchs and their consorts, to receive
The greetings of the people, such a sight
As they beheld no monarch's eye before
Had ever witnessed. All the sloping hill
Beneath laid out in spacious terraces,
With marble statues on the balustrades
At intervals, and great broad flights of stairs,
And two long wings projecting at each side
That end in lofty towers transparent, light,
And crystalline, the colour of the sky.
Then on the spacious terraces the throng
Of twenty thousand people, gaily dressed
In festal garments, raised a mighty shout
Of welcome to the Emperor!—loud cheers
That rose and fell with glorious energy!
And all that surging sea of human life
Ceased not its deep-voiced music of applause
Whilst he stood gazing from the balcony
Upon the scene before him. Rich and broad
The landscape spread—the air so clear and bright,
That every detail was distinctly seen,
Even to the spires of distant villages
That slept in the deep woodlands far away.
Napoleon's hardness yielded, and the face
Of his sweet Empress beamed with radiant smiles.
It was indeed an animating sight,
319
Upon the terrace played the song of France,
Composed, they say, by Queen Hortense, whose son
Stood listening to the old familiar air
At that proud moment; and his mother's voice
Came sweetly with those grand, triumphant notes.
Till then the waters slumbered in the earth;
That day they rose through fountains to the height
Of their full stature—columned showers of spray,
Wherein the sun hangs rainbows. Afterwards,
In future years, when round the pleasant brink
Of their vast basins, men shall stand and hear
The music of the waters, they will tell
How, when these fountains rose into the light
For the first time, two monarchs saw their birth,
And France and England were allied in war.
That day they rose through fountains to the height
Of their full stature—columned showers of spray,
Wherein the sun hangs rainbows. Afterwards,
In future years, when round the pleasant brink
Of their vast basins, men shall stand and hear
The music of the waters, they will tell
How, when these fountains rose into the light
For the first time, two monarchs saw their birth,
And France and England were allied in war.
The styles of all true architecture spring
From no vague, lawless fancies of the brain,
But from the life of nations; so, to teach
The people something of the powers of old
That were the strongest nations in their time,
Have many courts been copied from their works:
And through these courts the royal strangers went,
Egypt, and Greece, and Rome; and after them,
Like the enchantments of an Eastern tale,
The fairy-like Alhambra!
From no vague, lawless fancies of the brain,
But from the life of nations; so, to teach
The people something of the powers of old
That were the strongest nations in their time,
Have many courts been copied from their works:
And through these courts the royal strangers went,
Egypt, and Greece, and Rome; and after them,
Like the enchantments of an Eastern tale,
The fairy-like Alhambra!
320
Round the Court
Of Lions is a glorious colonnade
Of golden pillars, and a marble fountain
Stands in the centre. If you walk between
The pillars and the wall, and look around
Till all the intricate detail grows confused
And overpowers you, and the illumined colours,
Gold—scarlet—blue—become like gorgeous hues
At sunset, that you feel but cannot trace;
And then look through the arch into the hall
Of Justice, where the splendour still extends
In light subdued, all inexhaustible;
And still beyond, a third fair hall you see,
Fit for Haroun Alraschid in his prime—
Then, if your soul have aught of old romance,
Conceive Eugénie's thoughts when she beheld
This fair enchantment, which recalled to her
The old traditions of her native land!
Of Lions is a glorious colonnade
Of golden pillars, and a marble fountain
Stands in the centre. If you walk between
The pillars and the wall, and look around
Till all the intricate detail grows confused
And overpowers you, and the illumined colours,
Gold—scarlet—blue—become like gorgeous hues
At sunset, that you feel but cannot trace;
And then look through the arch into the hall
Of Justice, where the splendour still extends
In light subdued, all inexhaustible;
And still beyond, a third fair hall you see,
Fit for Haroun Alraschid in his prime—
Then, if your soul have aught of old romance,
Conceive Eugénie's thoughts when she beheld
This fair enchantment, which recalled to her
The old traditions of her native land!
The Central Transept was a glorious scene
When the great crowd had entered; and the floor
And all the upper galleries were black
With swarms of human creatures. In the midst,
Raised high above the murmuring multitude,
Upon four thrones the royal pairs sat down
To hear the mighty music of the band.
Above the two crowned heads the colours hung
Of France and England, and long banners drooped.
Heavy with golden bees. Upon the dais,
Beneath the glorious arch that he had built,
Great in himself—and in himself alone,
Stood Paxton, farther from his start in life
Than that strong potentate the Emperor.
When the great crowd had entered; and the floor
And all the upper galleries were black
With swarms of human creatures. In the midst,
Raised high above the murmuring multitude,
Upon four thrones the royal pairs sat down
To hear the mighty music of the band.
Above the two crowned heads the colours hung
Of France and England, and long banners drooped.
321
Beneath the glorious arch that he had built,
Great in himself—and in himself alone,
Stood Paxton, farther from his start in life
Than that strong potentate the Emperor.
One incident I cannot but record.
Before the princes entered on the scene,
As I sat looking down upon the throng,
Across the open space about the dais
There walked an invalid with quiet steps,
In peaceful costume, and I heard a cry
Of “Cardigan! hurrah for Cardigan!”
Yes, that was he who led so gallantly
His brave, devoted squadrons to the guns
At Balaklava, scorning death itself,
Through the hot fire of Russian batteries,
That swept the breadth of plain they charged across.
Our best and bravest thrown away for nought,
As if their lives were worthless! O, great God!
If thou hast blinded those who rule this land,
Spare unto us the people's nobler blood!
Before the princes entered on the scene,
As I sat looking down upon the throng,
Across the open space about the dais
There walked an invalid with quiet steps,
In peaceful costume, and I heard a cry
Of “Cardigan! hurrah for Cardigan!”
Yes, that was he who led so gallantly
His brave, devoted squadrons to the guns
At Balaklava, scorning death itself,
Through the hot fire of Russian batteries,
That swept the breadth of plain they charged across.
Our best and bravest thrown away for nought,
As if their lives were worthless! O, great God!
If thou hast blinded those who rule this land,
Spare unto us the people's nobler blood!
When we returned to London, looking from
The carriage window to the glorious hill,
Crowned with a brighter, more resplendent crown
Than Athens or the seven hills of Rome,
I saw the blazing sun upon the height
Low down the sky; and as our speed increased,
More swiftly rolled along the level ridge
The golden disc. A crystal tower between
Fled, like the towers of airy palaces
We build in dreams; and onward rolled the sun,
On to the structure that against the sky
Stood pale and like a cloud upon the hill.
Then through that delicate fabric blazed the sun,
Moving from end to end along the nave,
And all its thousand pillars seemed to melt
Like mist before him, and the iron frame
Of the arched roof dissolved in floods of light.
So to the other tower upon the left
He passed, and broad and huge the building stood,
Dim in the distance, pale, and mountainous.
The carriage window to the glorious hill,
Crowned with a brighter, more resplendent crown
Than Athens or the seven hills of Rome,
322
Low down the sky; and as our speed increased,
More swiftly rolled along the level ridge
The golden disc. A crystal tower between
Fled, like the towers of airy palaces
We build in dreams; and onward rolled the sun,
On to the structure that against the sky
Stood pale and like a cloud upon the hill.
Then through that delicate fabric blazed the sun,
Moving from end to end along the nave,
And all its thousand pillars seemed to melt
Like mist before him, and the iron frame
Of the arched roof dissolved in floods of light.
So to the other tower upon the left
He passed, and broad and huge the building stood,
Dim in the distance, pale, and mountainous.
And now its courts are empty! Yet, perhaps,
Although the royal music of the band
And the vast audience are no longer there,
Not wholly silent—for the nightingales
That dwell there sing by night, when through the roof,
And down the orange avenues, the moon
Looks from her throne in heaven, and all is still.
Then to a thousand statues sings a bird,
And thinks she has a flattering audience—
Silent—attentive—breathless—a great throng
Hushed by the spell of her melodious voice.
The giant twins of Egypt on their thrones,
Looking above the tops of the young palms,
Smile at the little nightingale, and she
Sings sweetly as another songstress once
To living thousands on the opening day.
Although the royal music of the band
And the vast audience are no longer there,
Not wholly silent—for the nightingales
That dwell there sing by night, when through the roof,
And down the orange avenues, the moon
Looks from her throne in heaven, and all is still.
Then to a thousand statues sings a bird,
And thinks she has a flattering audience—
Silent—attentive—breathless—a great throng
323
The giant twins of Egypt on their thrones,
Looking above the tops of the young palms,
Smile at the little nightingale, and she
Sings sweetly as another songstress once
To living thousands on the opening day.
| The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth | |