The Poetical Works of the Late Thomas Warton ... Fifth Edition, Corrected and Enlarged. To which are now added Inscriptionum Romanarum Delectus, and An Inaugural Speech As Camden Professor of History, never before published. Together with Memoirs of his Life and Writings; and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Richard Mant |
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| XII. | ODE XII. THE CRUSADE. |
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 | The Poetical Works of the Late Thomas Warton |  |
ODE XII. THE CRUSADE.
King Richard the first, celebrated for his achievements in the Crusades, was no less distinguished for his patronage of the Provencial minstrels, and his own compositions in their species of poetry. Returning from one of his expeditions in the holy land, in disguise, he was imprisoned in a castle of Leopold duke of Austria. His favourite minstrel, Blondel de Nesle, having traversed all Germany in search of his master, at length came to a castle, in which he found there was only one prisoner, and whose name was unknown. Suspecting that he had made the desired discovery, he seated himself under a window of the prisoner's apartment; and began a song, or ode, which the King and himself had formerly composed together. When the prisoner, who was King Richard, heard the song, he knew that Blondel must be the singer: and when Blondel paused about the middle, the King began the remainder, and completed it. The following ode is supposed to be this joint composition of the Minstrel and King Richard. W.
Nimbly we brush'd the level brine,
O'er the wave our weapons play'd,
High upon the trophied prow,
Many a warrior-minstrel swung
His sounding harp, and boldly sung:
“English Richard ploughs the deep!
“From distant towers, with anxious eye,
“The radiant range of shield and lance
“Down Damascus' hills advance:
“Ye ken the march of Europe's war!
“Saladin, thou paynim king,
“From Albion's isle revenge we bring!
“On Acon's spiry citadel,
“Though to the gale thy banners swell,
“England shall end thy glory soon!
“In vain, to break our firm array,
“Thy brazen drums hoarse discord bray:
“Those sounds our rising fury fan:
“English Richard in the van,
“On to victory we go,
“A vaunting infidel the foe.”
And swept the wire with glowing hand.
And Crete, with piny verdure crown'd,
Far along the smiling main
Echoed the prophetic strain.
That gave a murder'd Saviour birth;
Then, with ardour fresh endu'd,
Thus the solemn song renew'd.
“Heaven's favour'd hills appear at last!
“Object of our holy vow,
“We tread the Tyrian valleys now.
“From Carmel's almond-shaded steep
“We feel the cheering fragrance creep:
“Waves the date-empurpled palm,
“Wide his immortal umbrage spread!
“Hail Calvary, thou mountain hoar,
“Wet with our Redeemer's gore!
“Ye trampled tombs, ye fanes forlorn,
“Ye stones, by tears of pilgrims worn;
“Your ravish'd honours to restore,
“Fearless we climb this hostile shore!
“And thou, the sepulchre of God!
“By mocking pagans rudely trod,
“And quench'd thy lamps that beam'd so bright;
“For thee, from Britain's distant coast,
“Lo, Richard leads his faithful host!
“Aloft in his heroic hand,
“Blazing, like the beacon's brand,
“O'er the far-affrighted fields,
“Resistless Kaliburn he wields.
“Proud Saracen, pollute no more
“The shrines by martyrs built of yore!
“From each wild mountain's trackless crown
“In vain thy gloomy castles frown:
“In vain our steel-clad steeds defy;
“And, rolling in terrific state,
“On giant-wheels harsh thunders grate.
“When eve has hush'd the buzzing camp,
“Amid the moon-light vapours damp,
“Thy necromantic forms, in vain,
“Haunt us on the tented plain:
“We bid those spectre-shapes avaunt,
“Ashtaroth, and Termagaunt!
“With many a demon, pale of hue,
“Doom'd to drink the bitter dew
“Mid the dread grove of ebony.
“Nor magic charms, nor fiends of hell,
“The christian's holy courage quell.
“Arise, and lift thee to the sky!
“Shall wave the badge of Constantine.
“Ye Barons, to the sun unfold
“Our Cross with crimson wove and gold!”
| The Poetical Works of the Late Thomas Warton | |