Valerian a narrative poem : intended, in part, to describe the early persecutions of Christians, and rapidly to illustrate the influence of Christianity on the manners of nations |
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| 1. | BOOK I. |
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 | Valerian |  |
BOOK I.
1
Far in the east, washed by the restless wave,
Montalvia spreads her bold and fruitful shores:
There dwelt a people little known to fame,
But brave and hardy. No historic page
Has held their picture to succeeding years,
Nor told those customs, those historic deeds,
Those early scenes of love, which might instruct
The children of a distant age and clime.
Montalvia spreads her bold and fruitful shores:
There dwelt a people little known to fame,
But brave and hardy. No historic page
Has held their picture to succeeding years,
Nor told those customs, those historic deeds,
Those early scenes of love, which might instruct
The children of a distant age and clime.
From Thuscan origin this people sprang.
A wandering tribe, they left their native fields
In search of other climes, and on those shores,
Which they Montalvia called, they reared their tents,
And formed their homes. Time, as she flew, increased
Their number and their strength, and introduced
The arts, to ornament their domes, their walls,
Their wide-spread cities, and their waving fields;
To brighten all the joys of social life.
A wandering tribe, they left their native fields
2
Which they Montalvia called, they reared their tents,
And formed their homes. Time, as she flew, increased
Their number and their strength, and introduced
The arts, to ornament their domes, their walls,
Their wide-spread cities, and their waving fields;
To brighten all the joys of social life.
Through the long waste of time, O let me look
On those wild regions, on their waving woods,
On their high rocks, beat by unceasing storms!
Rise to my view embodied forms of men;
And hither, airy Fancy, speed thy flight;
Unroll thy record; whisper to my ear
Thy burning thoughts; lend me thy wings, and bear
Me over tracts unvisited by man!
Thy fairy visions oft have met my eyes,
When musing in the dark of solitude
And night; oft, listening to thy wayward dreams,
I've followed thee o'er cloud-capt hills, o'er streams,
O'er plains, o'er scorching sands, o'er unsunned snows,
O'er deserts nightly vexed by stormy blasts:
Now be my guide once more, and let my song
Prove not unworthy of thy varying powers,
And not unpleasing for the world to hear!
On those wild regions, on their waving woods,
On their high rocks, beat by unceasing storms!
Rise to my view embodied forms of men;
And hither, airy Fancy, speed thy flight;
Unroll thy record; whisper to my ear
Thy burning thoughts; lend me thy wings, and bear
Me over tracts unvisited by man!
Thy fairy visions oft have met my eyes,
When musing in the dark of solitude
And night; oft, listening to thy wayward dreams,
I've followed thee o'er cloud-capt hills, o'er streams,
3
O'er deserts nightly vexed by stormy blasts:
Now be my guide once more, and let my song
Prove not unworthy of thy varying powers,
And not unpleasing for the world to hear!
A man revered within Montalvia lived,
Alcestes named low bowed with weight of years.
He by his king was held in honour, love;
By all his wide-spread tribe in reverence held
For mild demeanour. He vaunted that his eye
Pierced far into the' oblivious past, and scanned
The map of onward time; that Heaven to him
Revealed all secret things, from others hid;
That oft, at midnight, to his hallowed ear
Some heaven-sent minister, in whispers soft,
Told him the will of those who rule o'er men.
Alcestes named low bowed with weight of years.
He by his king was held in honour, love;
By all his wide-spread tribe in reverence held
For mild demeanour. He vaunted that his eye
Pierced far into the' oblivious past, and scanned
The map of onward time; that Heaven to him
Revealed all secret things, from others hid;
That oft, at midnight, to his hallowed ear
Some heaven-sent minister, in whispers soft,
Told him the will of those who rule o'er men.
Far in a glade, beneath a mountain's brow,
Stood the low mansion of this aged seer.
Some mossy trees bent over his rude cot,
And swinging to the winds their giant arms,
Made music like the dashing of the sea.
A bed, some rushy seats, a lumbering chest,
Composed the scanty furniture within.
Upon the hearth, with some dry fuel piled,
A watch-dog slumbered, grey with many years:
Attendant on Alcestes, his fond master,
And grateful to the hand which gave him food,
He slumbered only where the old man lay,
And followed him in all his museful walks.
Stood the low mansion of this aged seer.
4
And swinging to the winds their giant arms,
Made music like the dashing of the sea.
A bed, some rushy seats, a lumbering chest,
Composed the scanty furniture within.
Upon the hearth, with some dry fuel piled,
A watch-dog slumbered, grey with many years:
Attendant on Alcestes, his fond master,
And grateful to the hand which gave him food,
He slumbered only where the old man lay,
And followed him in all his museful walks.
An only child watched the declining age
Of this kind man; Azora was she called:
A fairer maid no fancy ever formed.
Time had flown by, and numbered eighteen years
Since on her birth her happy father smiled.
Her form was moulded by the softest grace;
Roved o'er her face bewitching smiles, and o'er
Her shoulders fell a shining flood of hair.
No step so lightly as Azora's moved
In the gay gambols to the tabor's sound,
When yellow moonlight slept upon the hills.
Skilled was her father to draw music forth
From strings that, likest those of airy harp,
Breathed ravishing and sad mellifluence;
And he had taught his daughter all his art;
And oft, when twilight stole upon the vale,
And in her steps enamoured Silence came,
Azora's harp was heard, Azora's voice
Companioning, far sweeter than its own.
Of this kind man; Azora was she called:
A fairer maid no fancy ever formed.
Time had flown by, and numbered eighteen years
Since on her birth her happy father smiled.
Her form was moulded by the softest grace;
Roved o'er her face bewitching smiles, and o'er
Her shoulders fell a shining flood of hair.
5
In the gay gambols to the tabor's sound,
When yellow moonlight slept upon the hills.
Skilled was her father to draw music forth
From strings that, likest those of airy harp,
Breathed ravishing and sad mellifluence;
And he had taught his daughter all his art;
And oft, when twilight stole upon the vale,
And in her steps enamoured Silence came,
Azora's harp was heard, Azora's voice
Companioning, far sweeter than its own.
On the still cottage of Alcestes rose
The dawning smile, the brightening tints of morn.
Propped by his staff, and followed by his dog,
He bent his footsteps to the neighbouring shore:
For still on nature he delighted looked,
Mused o'er a world of grandeur, drear and wild,
With raptured thought; and yet his eye reposed
As fondly on the calmly, softly fair.
Arrived, he clambered 'midst the jutting rocks,
And leaning thoughtfully upon his staff,
Gazed on the waters rolling at his feet.
While wrapt in meditation thus he stood,
A cloud obscured the beams of early day,
The winds uprose, the angry Caspian raved,
And hove his billows higher in the blast.
Thus high above the elemental war,
The sage stood museful, muttering to the winds
The burthens of his heart and wayward dreams,
When suddenly and oft his ears were pierced
By the loud barking of his faithful dog.
Curious to know the cause, he turned his steps,
And sought his dog, whom at the water's edge,
Pawing the sand, he found, and on the surge
Bending a wistful and inquiring look:
When lo! the sage, lifting his eyes, beheld
A man, whom waves had cast upon the shore,
With members cold and stiff, bereft of life.
Youthful he seemed, and noble in his form;
His face and uncouth raiment plainly spoke
A stranger, from some distant coast unknown.
The dawning smile, the brightening tints of morn.
Propped by his staff, and followed by his dog,
He bent his footsteps to the neighbouring shore:
For still on nature he delighted looked,
Mused o'er a world of grandeur, drear and wild,
With raptured thought; and yet his eye reposed
As fondly on the calmly, softly fair.
6
And leaning thoughtfully upon his staff,
Gazed on the waters rolling at his feet.
While wrapt in meditation thus he stood,
A cloud obscured the beams of early day,
The winds uprose, the angry Caspian raved,
And hove his billows higher in the blast.
Thus high above the elemental war,
The sage stood museful, muttering to the winds
The burthens of his heart and wayward dreams,
When suddenly and oft his ears were pierced
By the loud barking of his faithful dog.
Curious to know the cause, he turned his steps,
And sought his dog, whom at the water's edge,
Pawing the sand, he found, and on the surge
Bending a wistful and inquiring look:
When lo! the sage, lifting his eyes, beheld
A man, whom waves had cast upon the shore,
With members cold and stiff, bereft of life.
Youthful he seemed, and noble in his form;
7
A stranger, from some distant coast unknown.
Alcestes raised him in his aged arms,
Hoping that life was not quite flown beyond
The strenuous call of his health-giving art;
And aid obtaining, gently bore away
To his low cot, and to his rushy bed.
Nor was the hope deceitful, nor his call
Inefficacious. Soon he noted life,
Yet tremulous, within the clay-cold breast.
Hoping that life was not quite flown beyond
The strenuous call of his health-giving art;
And aid obtaining, gently bore away
To his low cot, and to his rushy bed.
Nor was the hope deceitful, nor his call
Inefficacious. Soon he noted life,
Yet tremulous, within the clay-cold breast.
With generous care he and his daughter nursed
The unknown wand'rer; watched they o'er his couch;
By every gentle healing art they wooed
His lingering spirit back; and back it came.
When first he oped to the fair light his eyes,
He saw Alcestes and Azora bending,
With anxious eyes and piteous, o'er his bed,
And heard their cry of joy to see him live.
Astounded he beheld them, and in voice
But faint and scarcely audible, inquired,
“In what place he was cast, in what strange land,
And who the friends who saved a wretched wight,
To wanderings born, to hardships, and to tears?”
The unknown wand'rer; watched they o'er his couch;
By every gentle healing art they wooed
His lingering spirit back; and back it came.
When first he oped to the fair light his eyes,
He saw Alcestes and Azora bending,
With anxious eyes and piteous, o'er his bed,
And heard their cry of joy to see him live.
8
But faint and scarcely audible, inquired,
“In what place he was cast, in what strange land,
And who the friends who saved a wretched wight,
To wanderings born, to hardships, and to tears?”
Kindly the venerable man replied:
“Quiet, O stranger! every doubt and fear,
The winds have cast thee in the house of friends.
I snatched thee from the flood, I brought thee hither,
And joy to see thee live and speak again.
Receive then, youth, whate'er my cell bestows;
Mine and my daughter's hands shall give thee food
And drink, and watch thy couch till strength returns.
Rest, stranger, rest in peace till time restore
Joy to thy heart, and vigour to thy limbs.”
“Quiet, O stranger! every doubt and fear,
The winds have cast thee in the house of friends.
I snatched thee from the flood, I brought thee hither,
And joy to see thee live and speak again.
Receive then, youth, whate'er my cell bestows;
Mine and my daughter's hands shall give thee food
And drink, and watch thy couch till strength returns.
Rest, stranger, rest in peace till time restore
Joy to thy heart, and vigour to thy limbs.”
The old man's prayer was heard; his guest's pale cheek
Was visited again by dews of health.
A few succeeding days nerved his bold arm
Again with all its wonted strength. He lived
To thank his kind preserver for his care,
To lavish blessings on his silver head.
By more acquaintance more his heart was linked
To his protecting friends; knit were their souls
In bonds of union undissolvable.
Was visited again by dews of health.
A few succeeding days nerved his bold arm
9
To thank his kind preserver for his care,
To lavish blessings on his silver head.
By more acquaintance more his heart was linked
To his protecting friends; knit were their souls
In bonds of union undissolvable.
Communing oft, the stranger asked the seer
For tidings of the land before him spread,
To him unknown, and now his place of rest.
What race, he asked, sojourn in these long vales,
Or harbour in the hills I see remote?
And who their judges, kings, and incensed gods?
For tidings of the land before him spread,
To him unknown, and now his place of rest.
What race, he asked, sojourn in these long vales,
Or harbour in the hills I see remote?
And who their judges, kings, and incensed gods?
To whom the sage, in accents mild, replied:
This realm, O stranger, fame reports afar;
Its kindly soil rewards the ploughman's toil,
And gives rich harvests to industrious hands:
Green vallies meet the gladdened view; and streams
Profusely flow through fields, and fill the air
With coolness, and with murmurs musical.
This realm, O stranger, fame reports afar;
Its kindly soil rewards the ploughman's toil,
And gives rich harvests to industrious hands:
Green vallies meet the gladdened view; and streams
10
With coolness, and with murmurs musical.
In shadowy lawns the shepherd's pipe is heard
To call the swains and rustic maids to sport,
While blows the gale embathed in wholesome dews,
And sweetly wanders o'er their heads the moon,
And throws her silver lustre in their paths.
Oft from the thicket, at the still of night,
Or mountain's side, the wildered peasant hears
A voice of melody, more soft and shrill
Than shepherd's reed, to which the fairy tribes
Lead on the dance, and hold their mystic rites.
To call the swains and rustic maids to sport,
While blows the gale embathed in wholesome dews,
And sweetly wanders o'er their heads the moon,
And throws her silver lustre in their paths.
Oft from the thicket, at the still of night,
Or mountain's side, the wildered peasant hears
A voice of melody, more soft and shrill
Than shepherd's reed, to which the fairy tribes
Lead on the dance, and hold their mystic rites.
Montalvia's children are a race devout,
And sacred domes they rear to many a God,
In Ombecilla, their imperial seat.
Their God of Gods is great Oasis. He
Lives in bright palaces above the skies;
His eye looks farther than his sun's beam goes;
His voice is thunder; and his nod shakes worlds.
The morning is his smile, the storm his wrath;
He knows the ways of men; approves the good,
But looks indignant on the bad; and when
The good man dies, he wafts him to his halls,
Where shines a blissful day that never sets:
But when he sweeps the bad man from the earth,
He thrusts the struggling ghost, through gaping rift,
Far into earth's vast womb, where darkness dwells,
With other guilty souls, an endless doom.
And sacred domes they rear to many a God,
In Ombecilla, their imperial seat.
Their God of Gods is great Oasis. He
Lives in bright palaces above the skies;
His eye looks farther than his sun's beam goes;
11
The morning is his smile, the storm his wrath;
He knows the ways of men; approves the good,
But looks indignant on the bad; and when
The good man dies, he wafts him to his halls,
Where shines a blissful day that never sets:
But when he sweeps the bad man from the earth,
He thrusts the struggling ghost, through gaping rift,
Far into earth's vast womb, where darkness dwells,
With other guilty souls, an endless doom.
Oasis and his vassal Gods befriend
The good: but there are Gods malign, his foes,
And foes of all good men, and foes of joy.
Evil is their good, and groans their music sweet:
Death is their sport, and blood their banquet best;
They blow man's frantic passions into rage,
And goad his footsteps on to midnight deeds;
They loose the hell-hounds of unending strife.
And rain on earth diseases, plagues, and death.
The good: but there are Gods malign, his foes,
And foes of all good men, and foes of joy.
Evil is their good, and groans their music sweet:
Death is their sport, and blood their banquet best;
They blow man's frantic passions into rage,
And goad his footsteps on to midnight deeds;
They loose the hell-hounds of unending strife.
And rain on earth diseases, plagues, and death.
12
Frequent on altars are the victims laid,
As offerings to the Gods. Those who are kind,
Benevolent, and just, and friends of men,
Are honoured with the sacrifice of lambs.
From these their votaries seek the smile of peace,
The fruitful field, the sky without a storm,
The richest blessings of indulgent heaven.
To stern malignant deities are slain
The beasts congenial to their savage mind:
The bull, the tyger, wild boar of the wood;
And oft the warrior youth, the blooming maid,
Are offered to appease their deadly rage.
As offerings to the Gods. Those who are kind,
Benevolent, and just, and friends of men,
Are honoured with the sacrifice of lambs.
From these their votaries seek the smile of peace,
The fruitful field, the sky without a storm,
The richest blessings of indulgent heaven.
To stern malignant deities are slain
The beasts congenial to their savage mind:
The bull, the tyger, wild boar of the wood;
And oft the warrior youth, the blooming maid,
Are offered to appease their deadly rage.
O'er wide Montalvia Oriander reigns,
Raised by the people's voice to kingly state.
Of stature huge he is, of temper fierce,
But brave, and skilled to rule o'er restless men.
His hue is swarthy; his deep-seated eyes
Throw glances on his foes that check their steps,
And shoot a dizzy terror through their brain.
Alike terrific are his step and mein:
He moves as he well knew his high desert.
As one born to subdue. When wronged, his wrath
Is like the ocean, when in rage he heaves
Most high his billows of destruction; yet
Not tearless nor unmoved by woe is he,
And generous deeds are not unknown to him.
He loves his race; and threescore years have rolled
Since he has ruled them wisely in his love,
Fought all their battles, and engrossed their dangers.
Raised by the people's voice to kingly state.
Of stature huge he is, of temper fierce,
But brave, and skilled to rule o'er restless men.
His hue is swarthy; his deep-seated eyes
Throw glances on his foes that check their steps,
And shoot a dizzy terror through their brain.
13
He moves as he well knew his high desert.
As one born to subdue. When wronged, his wrath
Is like the ocean, when in rage he heaves
Most high his billows of destruction; yet
Not tearless nor unmoved by woe is he,
And generous deeds are not unknown to him.
He loves his race; and threescore years have rolled
Since he has ruled them wisely in his love,
Fought all their battles, and engrossed their dangers.
Oft, in their songs, the poets of the land
Teach youthful ears and credulous, that their king
Has sprung from Gods, and is to Gods allied
In wisdom and in strength, and ne'er to die.
The king assents, and his best gifts enrich
The tuneful authors of his deity.
Teach youthful ears and credulous, that their king
Has sprung from Gods, and is to Gods allied
In wisdom and in strength, and ne'er to die.
The king assents, and his best gifts enrich
The tuneful authors of his deity.
Gondalbo is the monarch's only son,
A son, alas! unworthy of his sire.
No generous passions warm his sullen soul,
But full of guile and cruelty is he;
In war the first, but last in arts of peace;
His dark eye rolls in wiles; his scowling glance
Gives presage of the' unquiet soul within;
Strong and beast-like his lusts, that, when provoked,
Will tread their perilous paths neck-deep in blood.
Oft does the father with a stern rebuke
Chastise the son; but still his stubborn will
Breaks through restraint; his overbearing pride
Scorns the keen lash, and throws the rein aside.
Yet of Gondalbo highly deem the sons
Of war, and wild adventure's restless bands:
A numerous host of such, with ill intent,
He wins, and binds them to some desperate cause.
A son, alas! unworthy of his sire.
14
But full of guile and cruelty is he;
In war the first, but last in arts of peace;
His dark eye rolls in wiles; his scowling glance
Gives presage of the' unquiet soul within;
Strong and beast-like his lusts, that, when provoked,
Will tread their perilous paths neck-deep in blood.
Oft does the father with a stern rebuke
Chastise the son; but still his stubborn will
Breaks through restraint; his overbearing pride
Scorns the keen lash, and throws the rein aside.
Yet of Gondalbo highly deem the sons
Of war, and wild adventure's restless bands:
A numerous host of such, with ill intent,
He wins, and binds them to some desperate cause.
Strong in her men, and proud in wealth and arts,
Fair Ombecilla stands, and heaves her walls
And battlements high in the airy realms.
A towered wall hems in her eastern side,
Her treasures guarding from irruption rude;
The wide-spread Caspian laves her western skirts;
The banks are fenced by rocky pinnacles,
On which the strong-winged eagle builds his nest,
And safely mues his ravenous young in blood;
And hence the eye would sicken as it gazed
On the dark waters refluent at their foot.
Within these bounds seven gorgeous fanes arise,
With altars flaming to the country's Gods.
On a near hill, o'ertopped with spiry trees,
The fane of great Oasis proudly stands,
And looks down on the city and the plains.
Awe-struck and reverend are the eyes that gaze
Upon its walls, gigantic and eternal,
Its glittering domes, and its columnar gates,
That catch the dawning beams of orient day.
Its courts at yearly festivals are thronged
By wondering crowds, whom a divine command
Calls from the utmost bounds, the circuit wide,
Of Altai's endless vales and long-drawn slopes.
Within the walls the roving eye is lost
'Midst waving hangings, and the sounding aisles,
'Mid sculptured forms, and godlike pageantry;
There meets the sight an altar to the God
Whom most they love; there oft the victim slain
Encrimsons with its blood the priestly hand;
There oft the roof re-echoes to the voice
Of prayer, to hymns and instrumental sounds.
Fair Ombecilla stands, and heaves her walls
And battlements high in the airy realms.
A towered wall hems in her eastern side,
15
The wide-spread Caspian laves her western skirts;
The banks are fenced by rocky pinnacles,
On which the strong-winged eagle builds his nest,
And safely mues his ravenous young in blood;
And hence the eye would sicken as it gazed
On the dark waters refluent at their foot.
Within these bounds seven gorgeous fanes arise,
With altars flaming to the country's Gods.
On a near hill, o'ertopped with spiry trees,
The fane of great Oasis proudly stands,
And looks down on the city and the plains.
Awe-struck and reverend are the eyes that gaze
Upon its walls, gigantic and eternal,
Its glittering domes, and its columnar gates,
That catch the dawning beams of orient day.
Its courts at yearly festivals are thronged
By wondering crowds, whom a divine command
Calls from the utmost bounds, the circuit wide,
Of Altai's endless vales and long-drawn slopes.
16
'Midst waving hangings, and the sounding aisles,
'Mid sculptured forms, and godlike pageantry;
There meets the sight an altar to the God
Whom most they love; there oft the victim slain
Encrimsons with its blood the priestly hand;
There oft the roof re-echoes to the voice
Of prayer, to hymns and instrumental sounds.
An aged priest, Abassus called, presides,
In robes of white, and pomp pontifical:
Next to the king in honour is he held;
His voice in council is esteemed most wise.
His beard of snow falls reverend o'er his breast,
And gravity sits throned upon his brow.
Childless is he, for jealous Gods refuse
To share his heart with earth-begotten cares.
He tends a taper's solitary ray,
That trembles on the temple's dusky walls,
And whose pure flame, with oils ambrosial fed,
Must never die; for in that death would sink
King, priest, and votary, halls, and fanes, and fields,
Gulphed, at the instant, in one yawning grave.
In narrow cell, these hallowed walls within,
In holy trance he sits, to watch the pledge
Of universal safety glimmering near;
Save when the king, a gorgeous train attending,
Comes to the temple to partake the rites
Ordained by great Oasis, when the sun
Sets out anew upon his yearly read.
In robes of white, and pomp pontifical:
Next to the king in honour is he held;
His voice in council is esteemed most wise.
His beard of snow falls reverend o'er his breast,
And gravity sits throned upon his brow.
Childless is he, for jealous Gods refuse
To share his heart with earth-begotten cares.
He tends a taper's solitary ray,
That trembles on the temple's dusky walls,
And whose pure flame, with oils ambrosial fed,
17
King, priest, and votary, halls, and fanes, and fields,
Gulphed, at the instant, in one yawning grave.
In narrow cell, these hallowed walls within,
In holy trance he sits, to watch the pledge
Of universal safety glimmering near;
Save when the king, a gorgeous train attending,
Comes to the temple to partake the rites
Ordained by great Oasis, when the sun
Sets out anew upon his yearly read.
Around the sacred fane the tombs of kings,
For virtue, warlike or pacific, famed,
Who lived to save their country, or who died,
Are built, with emblems and with trophies decked.
The precincts unprofaned spread far and wide
Around these walls; a woody wilderness,
A forest of primeval growth, the ground
Shadows with leafy canopy obscure.
The city's din, by distance rendered sweet,
Strikes the sad ear of him who roves beneath,
And keeps alive the holy mystic flame.
Hard by the broken cliff which skirts the flood
The kingly palace stands, in towered state,
And frowns defiance on the war of years;
A limpid stream, that through the city flows,
Mixes in rushing cadence with the sea.
For virtue, warlike or pacific, famed,
Who lived to save their country, or who died,
Are built, with emblems and with trophies decked.
The precincts unprofaned spread far and wide
Around these walls; a woody wilderness,
A forest of primeval growth, the ground
Shadows with leafy canopy obscure.
The city's din, by distance rendered sweet,
18
And keeps alive the holy mystic flame.
Hard by the broken cliff which skirts the flood
The kingly palace stands, in towered state,
And frowns defiance on the war of years;
A limpid stream, that through the city flows,
Mixes in rushing cadence with the sea.
Ah, sweet Hyphasis! natal fountain sweet,
May never hostile footsteps bathe in thee,
And ne'er rude battle mingle with thy murmur!
Well pleased, the maids of Ombecilla bathe
Their fervid temples and their floating hair
In thy enamoured wave; and chief I love
To gaze in thy broad mirror at the skies,
While many a bark, at evening's peaceful hour,
Skims lightly o'er thy wave, and all thy shades
Give echo to the oar and oarman's song.
Hyphasis and her far-spread arms bestow,
Without the walls, oe'r wide-extending plains,
O'er many a waving field, luxuriance green;
Abundance laughs around; the lowing herds
Are heard among the vales; the clambering goats
Look from the hillock's brow; and bleating flocks
Crop the green meadows, and repose in shades;
While from beneath each branching fir looks out
The cottage roof, in sweet and humble guise.
The plains are gladdened by the jocund voice
Of shepherd, calling to his errant flock,
The pipe's shrill music, and industrious sounds.
May never hostile footsteps bathe in thee,
And ne'er rude battle mingle with thy murmur!
Well pleased, the maids of Ombecilla bathe
Their fervid temples and their floating hair
In thy enamoured wave; and chief I love
To gaze in thy broad mirror at the skies,
While many a bark, at evening's peaceful hour,
Skims lightly o'er thy wave, and all thy shades
Give echo to the oar and oarman's song.
Hyphasis and her far-spread arms bestow,
19
O'er many a waving field, luxuriance green;
Abundance laughs around; the lowing herds
Are heard among the vales; the clambering goats
Look from the hillock's brow; and bleating flocks
Crop the green meadows, and repose in shades;
While from beneath each branching fir looks out
The cottage roof, in sweet and humble guise.
The plains are gladdened by the jocund voice
Of shepherd, calling to his errant flock,
The pipe's shrill music, and industrious sounds.
Skirting the north, a chain of mountains spreads,
That with their blue heads pierce the passing clouds.
No culture tames the fierceness of their soil;
The larch-tree climbs their steep and rocky side;
And there a ruffian horde in old time dug
Their darksome dens, and thence, e'en now, are wont,
At night's still hour, to come in search of spoil,
And led by thirst of blood.
That with their blue heads pierce the passing clouds.
No culture tames the fierceness of their soil;
The larch-tree climbs their steep and rocky side;
And there a ruffian horde in old time dug
Their darksome dens, and thence, e'en now, are wont,
At night's still hour, to come in search of spoil,
And led by thirst of blood.
20
These bands are led
By Artaban, of giant port, and skilled
In wiles, and all the robber's artifice.
His arm descends like some high falling tower
On the sad stranger wandering in the dark;
And, like a whirlwind, in his wrath he sweeps
Unsheltered villages, unguarded flocks.
Grim-visaged man! none but the brave can meet
The terrors of his dark and flashing eye,
Or mark the bend of his o'ershadowing brows;
His stride is dreadful to the field of strife,
And his dark armour fear-strikes hosts of men.
By Artaban, of giant port, and skilled
In wiles, and all the robber's artifice.
His arm descends like some high falling tower
On the sad stranger wandering in the dark;
And, like a whirlwind, in his wrath he sweeps
Unsheltered villages, unguarded flocks.
Grim-visaged man! none but the brave can meet
The terrors of his dark and flashing eye,
Or mark the bend of his o'ershadowing brows;
His stride is dreadful to the field of strife,
And his dark armour fear-strikes hosts of men.
He as a God leads forth his vassal clan;
His anger slays, his nod dispenses life;
He bids, and they who dare to faulter, straight
Are piecemeal hewn by his indignant sword,
And thrown to blood-hounds to regale their thirst.
He tramples under foot the power of kings,
And walks secure 'midst ambush, and o'er mines.
Loud Rumour is most busy with his name;
It is her trade to bruit in our ears
His marvellous feats in council and in war.
She tells us how a troop of fiery youth,
Five banded thousands were they, culled with care
From out the hardy sons of southern hills,
Assailed him, whom they single, shieldless found,
At his spare meal, in bottom of a cave.
His anger slays, his nod dispenses life;
He bids, and they who dare to faulter, straight
Are piecemeal hewn by his indignant sword,
And thrown to blood-hounds to regale their thirst.
He tramples under foot the power of kings,
And walks secure 'midst ambush, and o'er mines.
21
It is her trade to bruit in our ears
His marvellous feats in council and in war.
She tells us how a troop of fiery youth,
Five banded thousands were they, culled with care
From out the hardy sons of southern hills,
Assailed him, whom they single, shieldless found,
At his spare meal, in bottom of a cave.
Alas! their leagued swords availed them naught
Against his iron arm; they fell in heaps,
Like grass before the scythe; he thinned their files,
Till slaughter-weary, or with pity touched,
His hand forbore; and bounding o'er the heads
Of those who fled, he vanished clean away.
Against his iron arm; they fell in heaps,
Like grass before the scythe; he thinned their files,
Till slaughter-weary, or with pity touched,
His hand forbore; and bounding o'er the heads
Of those who fled, he vanished clean away.
A pilgrim clambering o'er the rocks, benighted,
Sought shelter from the storm within his cave.
Artaban then was prowling on the plains.
The stranger, wearied, threw himself to rest
On some dry leaves, and closed his eyes in sleep.
Not long he slumbered, when the piercing voice
Of signal-horn was heard. He waked and saw,
Entering the cave's rude door, the scowling chief.
The pilgrim started from his leafy bed.
His dress and aspect told his name, and now
Not e'en to supplication did the wretch
Betake himself, for Artaban spared none,
And fame through every land had blown the sound.
Sought shelter from the storm within his cave.
Artaban then was prowling on the plains.
The stranger, wearied, threw himself to rest
22
Not long he slumbered, when the piercing voice
Of signal-horn was heard. He waked and saw,
Entering the cave's rude door, the scowling chief.
The pilgrim started from his leafy bed.
His dress and aspect told his name, and now
Not e'en to supplication did the wretch
Betake himself, for Artaban spared none,
And fame through every land had blown the sound.
The chief quick darted at the' intruder eyes
Of fierce suspicion; from his sheath outflew
The sword that fear-struck mortals deem divine.
But paused the chief, and while his fiery eyes
Roved o'er the figure of the trembling man,
His tattered raiment, snowy front, and back
By age bent double, he his rage dismissed.
In accents mild he bade the pilgrim stay,
Rest on his leaves the night, and break his bread,
Sprinkled with sacred salt. When day returned,
In decent weeds he clothed him, his slow steps
He guided safely through the thicket's maze;
The track of men regained, he bade God speed.
Of fierce suspicion; from his sheath outflew
The sword that fear-struck mortals deem divine.
But paused the chief, and while his fiery eyes
Roved o'er the figure of the trembling man,
His tattered raiment, snowy front, and back
By age bent double, he his rage dismissed.
In accents mild he bade the pilgrim stay,
Rest on his leaves the night, and break his bread,
Sprinkled with sacred salt. When day returned,
23
He guided safely through the thicket's maze;
The track of men regained, he bade God speed.
Far in the utmost west, and faintly seen
From Ombecilla's tallest pinnacle,
The hills are robed in forest that spreads wide,
O'er many a league, its silence and its shade.
From Ombecilla's tallest pinnacle,
The hills are robed in forest that spreads wide,
O'er many a league, its silence and its shade.
The traveller wandering through its trackless vales
Loses the sun's blest guidance, and in vain
His eyes are upward turned, in vain they seek
The lode-star's sparkling ray, or zenithed moon;
No sounds of kindly import greet him; beasts
That prey on men beset him, and their roar
With rushing torrents a dread concert keep.
Loses the sun's blest guidance, and in vain
His eyes are upward turned, in vain they seek
The lode-star's sparkling ray, or zenithed moon;
No sounds of kindly import greet him; beasts
That prey on men beset him, and their roar
With rushing torrents a dread concert keep.
Here oft come hunters, armed for sylvan war,
More perilous than the strife of spear with spear:
With hounds, and horn, and steeds in panoply,
They come to rouze the monster from his den.
Here oft the prince, with well appointed band,
Keen for the arduous sport, doth beat the shades,
Where lions, respited from hunger, crouch.
And here the springing tyger he encounters;
And numerous are the spoils of panthers grey,
Of brindled lioness, and speckled pard,
And antlered hind, that deck his ghostly halls.
More perilous than the strife of spear with spear:
24
They come to rouze the monster from his den.
Here oft the prince, with well appointed band,
Keen for the arduous sport, doth beat the shades,
Where lions, respited from hunger, crouch.
And here the springing tyger he encounters;
And numerous are the spoils of panthers grey,
Of brindled lioness, and speckled pard,
And antlered hind, that deck his ghostly halls.
And such unthrifty warfare, such rude sport,
Next to man-killing, most delights his soul.
Blood slakes his thirst; the cry of agony
More sweetly wooes his ear than harp, or voice
Of choral angels; writhing pangs of babes,
Pierced by steel-headed arrows, feast his eyes,
More richly than the rose, whose crimson dyes
The cheek of virgin, when her bridal lamp
Is lighted, feasts the eye of him she loves.
Next to man-killing, most delights his soul.
Blood slakes his thirst; the cry of agony
More sweetly wooes his ear than harp, or voice
Of choral angels; writhing pangs of babes,
Pierced by steel-headed arrows, feast his eyes,
More richly than the rose, whose crimson dyes
The cheek of virgin, when her bridal lamp
Is lighted, feasts the eye of him she loves.
25
Deep bosomed in these woods, in ancient time,
There stood a fane, to the great mother earth
By hands devout up-reared; a hill's broad top
It crowns, and circling torrents rush around.
'Twas once a mansion, walled full high and strong;
Within were sightly halls and doors embossed;
But now, of all but old renown bereft,
It stands a tottering crumbling ruin, grey
With moss, and clad with ivy, and the yew
Shades its high altars; gape forlorn its groves,
Defaced and empty: for the gods that held
The sway o'er Ombecilla's infant years,
Their hill-top fanes, their pageantry, their priests,
Have vanished; and new gods, new priests, new rites,
Have filled their place: a worship brought from far
By pilgrim sages, whom the learned South
Bred in her courts, and with persuasion armed.
There stood a fane, to the great mother earth
By hands devout up-reared; a hill's broad top
It crowns, and circling torrents rush around.
'Twas once a mansion, walled full high and strong;
Within were sightly halls and doors embossed;
But now, of all but old renown bereft,
It stands a tottering crumbling ruin, grey
With moss, and clad with ivy, and the yew
Shades its high altars; gape forlorn its groves,
Defaced and empty: for the gods that held
The sway o'er Ombecilla's infant years,
Their hill-top fanes, their pageantry, their priests,
Have vanished; and new gods, new priests, new rites,
Have filled their place: a worship brought from far
By pilgrim sages, whom the learned South
Bred in her courts, and with persuasion armed.
These grassy halls, unwindowed and unroofed,
Are fit for meditation; museful steps
Would love to rove amid these mouldering aisles,
To ponder on old time, man's fitful life,
And death that levels all things, if the haunt
Were empty of all beings else, and free
From lurking mischief. But not so: for deep
In narrow cell, within these bounds immured,
There sits a hoary wight, deep versed in arts
Of direful magic, potent to controul
Great Nature's kingdom. There, on stony couch
Reclined, he reads Contingency's vast book.
To those who dare the perils of the wood,
And homage pay to necromantic power,
He opes his lips, expounding destiny.
Are fit for meditation; museful steps
26
To ponder on old time, man's fitful life,
And death that levels all things, if the haunt
Were empty of all beings else, and free
From lurking mischief. But not so: for deep
In narrow cell, within these bounds immured,
There sits a hoary wight, deep versed in arts
Of direful magic, potent to controul
Great Nature's kingdom. There, on stony couch
Reclined, he reads Contingency's vast book.
To those who dare the perils of the wood,
And homage pay to necromantic power,
He opes his lips, expounding destiny.
Great is the peril, for not beast alone,
But savage man, prowls round this dark retreat;
Wild men, and artless but in feats of war,
Slow to all kindness, but to vengeance swift;
With tongues unbroken to obsequious curb,
With arms by rustic labour unsubdued,
The Morglan hides his spoil amidst these hills.
But savage man, prowls round this dark retreat;
Wild men, and artless but in feats of war,
Slow to all kindness, but to vengeance swift;
With tongues unbroken to obsequious curb,
27
The Morglan hides his spoil amidst these hills.
Ere Thusca and his children reached these shores,
From hill to sea this roaming race diffused
Their ill-compacted tribes: hence to Montalvia's sons
They bear the hatred due to hostile men
Who robbed them of their fair and wide domain.
Unending war they wage, and oft molest,
By violent incursion, e'en the walls
Of Ombecilla, and their brazen trump
Shakes all her hearts; but oftener have they found
Graves in the fields their sword and brand had wasted.
And oft, the tide of war against them flowing,
The vengeful sword of Thusca's sons have left
Nought but a meagre remnant of the race,
To rue their mad ambition, and to brouze
On Nature's poor provision, cooped in rocks.
From hill to sea this roaming race diffused
Their ill-compacted tribes: hence to Montalvia's sons
They bear the hatred due to hostile men
Who robbed them of their fair and wide domain.
Unending war they wage, and oft molest,
By violent incursion, e'en the walls
Of Ombecilla, and their brazen trump
Shakes all her hearts; but oftener have they found
Graves in the fields their sword and brand had wasted.
And oft, the tide of war against them flowing,
The vengeful sword of Thusca's sons have left
Nought but a meagre remnant of the race,
To rue their mad ambition, and to brouze
On Nature's poor provision, cooped in rocks.
28
Alcestes ceased, and with him ceased the day.
Now o'er the city, o'er the plains, descend,
Long-drawn, the mantle, dew-besprent, of Eve;
The moon-beams tremble on the Caspian wave;
The hum of men, the bay of dogs, is hush'd.
Sleep comes to heal all wounds: come then to me;
And thou O Muse, seal thy inspired lips.
The tenants of the cot to rest betake
Their weary limbs; Valerian on his couch
Sunk in soft slumbers, not unvisited
Of dreams, that whispered of futurity.
Now o'er the city, o'er the plains, descend,
Long-drawn, the mantle, dew-besprent, of Eve;
The moon-beams tremble on the Caspian wave;
The hum of men, the bay of dogs, is hush'd.
Sleep comes to heal all wounds: come then to me;
And thou O Muse, seal thy inspired lips.
The tenants of the cot to rest betake
Their weary limbs; Valerian on his couch
Sunk in soft slumbers, not unvisited
Of dreams, that whispered of futurity.
END OF BOOK I.
| Valerian | |