The Hope of the World and other poems by Charles Mackay |
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 | The Hope of the World and other poems |  |
3
CANTO I.
ARGUMENT.
Capabilities of Man for Happiness.—The Muse of History is invoked to show how miserable Man has rendered the World by his own bad Passions.—The evils of Intolerance and Ambition, as exemplified by the wars of religion and aggrandisement, and the slavery and debasement of the Human Mind consequent upon them.—False Greatness of the Ancient Empires.—Christianity the Hope of the World.
Father and God of this fair world below,
How vast the blessings that around us flow!
Love, the foundation of thy wondrous plan,
Pours joy and plenty in full streams for man:
The generous earth yields up her golden grain,
The trees their fruits, the skies their kindly rain,
The air its health, the flowers their odours rare,
The sun his bright beams shining everywhere.
All nature, smiling through her varied round,
Woos human-kind to joys that still abound:
Still for their every sense unnumber'd rise—
Sweets for their palate, beauty for their eyes,
And all the charms of music for the ear,
With pain but given to warn of dangers near.
These for the body's;—for the mind's delight,
Knowledge of God, and favour in his sight;
And all that glorious privilege of thought,
To the true soul with mines of treasure fraught;
And Nature, opening her abounding page,
To charm in youth, to captivate in age:
With Hope, best boon the Godhead could impart,
And Love, divinest essence of his heart.
How vast the blessings that around us flow!
Love, the foundation of thy wondrous plan,
Pours joy and plenty in full streams for man:
The generous earth yields up her golden grain,
The trees their fruits, the skies their kindly rain,
The air its health, the flowers their odours rare,
The sun his bright beams shining everywhere.
All nature, smiling through her varied round,
Woos human-kind to joys that still abound:
4
Sweets for their palate, beauty for their eyes,
And all the charms of music for the ear,
With pain but given to warn of dangers near.
These for the body's;—for the mind's delight,
Knowledge of God, and favour in his sight;
And all that glorious privilege of thought,
To the true soul with mines of treasure fraught;
And Nature, opening her abounding page,
To charm in youth, to captivate in age:
With Hope, best boon the Godhead could impart,
And Love, divinest essence of his heart.
Lord of an heritage so fair and great,
Lord of himself, controller of his fate,
Has man employ'd the gifts so freely given
To the best ends, and made his earth a heaven?
Lord of himself, controller of his fate,
Has man employ'd the gifts so freely given
To the best ends, and made his earth a heaven?
Fool to inquire!—Historic Muse unfold
Thy book sublime, with all his deeds enroll'd,
And if thou canst, amid regretful tears,
Read us the awful record of his years!
Thy book sublime, with all his deeds enroll'd,
And if thou canst, amid regretful tears,
Read us the awful record of his years!
5
Since first the globe its annual course began,
Mankind's worst enemy hath still been man.
Lust, love of power, and rivalry of creed
Alike have turn'd him to a fiend indeed;
But chief the last has nerved his soul to hate,
His tongue to curse, his hand to strike his mate.
Lo! the first murder-spots that stain'd the land
Came from the wounds made by a brother's hand.
Lo! the first blood that sank into the sod,
Flow'd in contention at the shrine of God!
Mankind's worst enemy hath still been man.
Lust, love of power, and rivalry of creed
Alike have turn'd him to a fiend indeed;
But chief the last has nerved his soul to hate,
His tongue to curse, his hand to strike his mate.
Lo! the first murder-spots that stain'd the land
Came from the wounds made by a brother's hand.
Lo! the first blood that sank into the sod,
Flow'd in contention at the shrine of God!
First murder! emblem of a myriad more
That since have deluged Earth's green fields with gore!
Bear witness, Asia! where the flaming brand
Of thy Mohammed, in his conquering hand,
Hew'd down thy nations, like the full, ripe corn,
Before the reaper on his harvest morn,
Where his apostles, treading in his path,
Spread o'er thy plains like messengers of wrath,
“Allah-il-Allah!” their eternal cry—
“Believe our book, ye millions, or ye die!”
And other lands, if they had wish'd to pile
More wondrous pyramids than those of Nile,
Might, without granite, have uprear'd them high
With skulls unburied, bleaching to the sky.
That since have deluged Earth's green fields with gore!
Bear witness, Asia! where the flaming brand
Of thy Mohammed, in his conquering hand,
Hew'd down thy nations, like the full, ripe corn,
Before the reaper on his harvest morn,
Where his apostles, treading in his path,
Spread o'er thy plains like messengers of wrath,
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“Believe our book, ye millions, or ye die!”
And other lands, if they had wish'd to pile
More wondrous pyramids than those of Nile,
Might, without granite, have uprear'd them high
With skulls unburied, bleaching to the sky.
Bear witness, Europe! call thy suffering lands
To tell the foul deeds done by bigot hands.
Tell of the millions whom the Hermit drew
To dye the Danube of a sanguine hue,
And choke it up with multitudes of slain,
By high Belgrade or Nissa's fatal plain.
Tell of the second crowds, as mad as these,
Who cover'd earth and swarm'd upon the seas,
When zealous Bernard waved his banner high—
“The Cross! Jerusalem! the Lord!” his cry,—
And of the thousands of that countless host
Who left their bones for vultures on the coast,
And never saw that land they pined to see,
Bethlem's green meads, or waves of Galilee.
Call Albion up, to tell the honour'd names
Of all her sons who perish'd in the flames,
From her fourth Henry's to her Mary's time;—
Record of sorrow, and despair, and crime.
Call France, to tell of that unhallow'd day,
When brave Coligni, good, and hoary grey,
Fell in the streets already heap'd with slain,
That ran with blood to swell the blushing Seine;
When even babes depending at the breast
Were sought and seized, aud slaughter'd like the rest.
Bid Spain throw open wide her dungeon doors,
And show the blood-stains on the walls and floors.
Bid her disclose the secrets treasured there,
The body's torture and the mind's despair.
Bid her recount the numbers of her dead,
In caverns dark or market-places red;
Doom'd in the first a lingering death to know,
Brought to the second for a raree-show,
To please bull-baiters, crowding forth to scan
Intenser throes in man—betortured man.
To tell the foul deeds done by bigot hands.
Tell of the millions whom the Hermit drew
To dye the Danube of a sanguine hue,
And choke it up with multitudes of slain,
By high Belgrade or Nissa's fatal plain.
Tell of the second crowds, as mad as these,
Who cover'd earth and swarm'd upon the seas,
When zealous Bernard waved his banner high—
“The Cross! Jerusalem! the Lord!” his cry,—
And of the thousands of that countless host
Who left their bones for vultures on the coast,
And never saw that land they pined to see,
Bethlem's green meads, or waves of Galilee.
7
Of all her sons who perish'd in the flames,
From her fourth Henry's to her Mary's time;—
Record of sorrow, and despair, and crime.
Call France, to tell of that unhallow'd day,
When brave Coligni, good, and hoary grey,
Fell in the streets already heap'd with slain,
That ran with blood to swell the blushing Seine;
When even babes depending at the breast
Were sought and seized, aud slaughter'd like the rest.
Bid Spain throw open wide her dungeon doors,
And show the blood-stains on the walls and floors.
Bid her disclose the secrets treasured there,
The body's torture and the mind's despair.
Bid her recount the numbers of her dead,
In caverns dark or market-places red;
Doom'd in the first a lingering death to know,
Brought to the second for a raree-show,
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Intenser throes in man—betortured man.
And thou too, distant region of the West,
New found, but ah! no happier than the rest;—
Columbia! join the universal wail,
Tell us Pizarro's blood-polluted tale,
And all the wrongs inflicted by the bands
Europe sent forth to scourge thy virgin lands,
And teach a creed, whose essence is of heaven,
By deeds of hell, and hope to be forgiven!
New found, but ah! no happier than the rest;—
Columbia! join the universal wail,
Tell us Pizarro's blood-polluted tale,
And all the wrongs inflicted by the bands
Europe sent forth to scourge thy virgin lands,
And teach a creed, whose essence is of heaven,
By deeds of hell, and hope to be forgiven!
Oh, fearful record! yet, ye nations, look—
'Tis but one page from that tremendous book
Where all your deeds, by Truth's sad fingers traced,
Remain for ever, clear and uneffaced,
Inscribed in characters of gory red,
And damp with tears by pitying angels shed.
Turn o'er the leaf, and see what meets us there—
Less woe—less wrong—less torture—less despair?
Ah, no! a lust, accursed from its birth,
Has play'd its part in ravaging the earth,
And help'd religious jealousy to fill
Her plains with blood, her human hearts with ill.
The lust of power! the worst that man can know,
Prolific source of never-ceasing woe,
Has sounded shrill the trumpet of alarm,
And call'd the ready multitudes to arm;
Made human shambles in each quiet spot,
Places of skulls for graveless bones to rot!
'Tis but one page from that tremendous book
Where all your deeds, by Truth's sad fingers traced,
Remain for ever, clear and uneffaced,
Inscribed in characters of gory red,
And damp with tears by pitying angels shed.
Turn o'er the leaf, and see what meets us there—
Less woe—less wrong—less torture—less despair?
Ah, no! a lust, accursed from its birth,
Has play'd its part in ravaging the earth,
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Her plains with blood, her human hearts with ill.
The lust of power! the worst that man can know,
Prolific source of never-ceasing woe,
Has sounded shrill the trumpet of alarm,
And call'd the ready multitudes to arm;
Made human shambles in each quiet spot,
Places of skulls for graveless bones to rot!
Oh, foolish men! to draw the cumbrous car
Of kings and chiefs, and potentates to war!
To waste your lives, and give your roofs to flame,
Your babes to slaughter and your wives to shame,
And all to aid the tyrant of an hour,
To round a province and extend his power;
Or please, perchance, some minion, his delight,
Who loves no prince unlaurell'd in the fight.
Too oft have thousands for a wanton's sigh,
Or favourite's pettishness, been doom'd to die;
Too oft the torch has set a realm on fire,
Because one man was slave to his desire,
And could not rest, unless the trump of Fame
Sounded o'er earth his terror-striking name;
Unless the nations trembled at his tread,
And smaller chieftains bow'd their humbled head!
Of kings and chiefs, and potentates to war!
To waste your lives, and give your roofs to flame,
Your babes to slaughter and your wives to shame,
And all to aid the tyrant of an hour,
To round a province and extend his power;
Or please, perchance, some minion, his delight,
Who loves no prince unlaurell'd in the fight.
Too oft have thousands for a wanton's sigh,
Or favourite's pettishness, been doom'd to die;
Too oft the torch has set a realm on fire,
Because one man was slave to his desire,
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Sounded o'er earth his terror-striking name;
Unless the nations trembled at his tread,
And smaller chieftains bow'd their humbled head!
Alas for men! that they should be so blind;
That they should laud these scourges of their kind;
Call each man glorious who has led a host,
And him most glorious who has murder'd most!
Alas! that men should lavish upon these
The most obsequious homage of their knees—
The most obstreperous flattery of their tongue;
That these alone should be by poets sung;
That good men's names should to oblivion fall,
But those of heroes fill the mouths of all!
That those who labour in the arts of peace,
Making the nations prosper and increase,
Should fill a nameless and unhonour'd grave,
Their worth forgotten by the crowds they save—
But that the leaders who despoil the earth,
Fill it with tears, and quench its children's mirth,
Should with their statues block the public way,
And stand adored as demi-gods for aye!
False greatness! where the pedestal for one,
Is on the heads of multitudes undone!
False admiration! given, not understood:
False glory! only to be gain'd by blood.
That they should laud these scourges of their kind;
Call each man glorious who has led a host,
And him most glorious who has murder'd most!
Alas! that men should lavish upon these
The most obsequious homage of their knees—
The most obstreperous flattery of their tongue;
That these alone should be by poets sung;
That good men's names should to oblivion fall,
But those of heroes fill the mouths of all!
That those who labour in the arts of peace,
Making the nations prosper and increase,
Should fill a nameless and unhonour'd grave,
Their worth forgotten by the crowds they save—
But that the leaders who despoil the earth,
Fill it with tears, and quench its children's mirth,
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And stand adored as demi-gods for aye!
False greatness! where the pedestal for one,
Is on the heads of multitudes undone!
False admiration! given, not understood:
False glory! only to be gain'd by blood.
From the world's infancy till now, its prime,
The page of History is fill'd with crime.
In every age has bad Ambition raised
Its giant head, and, lo!—the earth has blazed!
Each clime remote, in cold or torrid zone,
Has had some king and hero of its own,
To play the fabled Mahadeva's part,
And light Destruction's torch or hurl its dart;
And still as one has run his fiery race,
The next has started to supply his place.
An Alexander grasps his sword, and, lo!
O'er half the globe resounds the voice of woe.
A Gengis comes, and many a fertile plain
Becomes more fertile with the heaps of slain.
A Timour next, and with her bosom rent,
Pale Asia bleeds in all her vast extent.
A furious Charles, destruction at his heels,
Drives from the north his conquering chariot wheels.
Napoleon flashes on the world's sad sight,
And blazing towns illumine all the night.
Brave Sarragossa falls amid her woe,
The fires of Moscow burst amid the snow,
Blue Berezina laves her shores with red,
And Europe's fields are cumber'd with the dead.
But why recount their numbers or their deeds?—
Earth's ears are full of them—earth's bosom bleeds
Even now, at mention of their fearful names,
Traced on her soil in furrows made by flames.
The page of History is fill'd with crime.
In every age has bad Ambition raised
Its giant head, and, lo!—the earth has blazed!
Each clime remote, in cold or torrid zone,
Has had some king and hero of its own,
To play the fabled Mahadeva's part,
And light Destruction's torch or hurl its dart;
And still as one has run his fiery race,
The next has started to supply his place.
An Alexander grasps his sword, and, lo!
O'er half the globe resounds the voice of woe.
A Gengis comes, and many a fertile plain
Becomes more fertile with the heaps of slain.
12
Pale Asia bleeds in all her vast extent.
A furious Charles, destruction at his heels,
Drives from the north his conquering chariot wheels.
Napoleon flashes on the world's sad sight,
And blazing towns illumine all the night.
Brave Sarragossa falls amid her woe,
The fires of Moscow burst amid the snow,
Blue Berezina laves her shores with red,
And Europe's fields are cumber'd with the dead.
But why recount their numbers or their deeds?—
Earth's ears are full of them—earth's bosom bleeds
Even now, at mention of their fearful names,
Traced on her soil in furrows made by flames.
If all their wars and battles we review,
From Asia's Tyre to Europe's Waterloo,
Rome, Greece, Assyria—modern states and old,
The same dark history is ever told;
The same bad passions in the conqueror's breast;
The same sad folly blinding all the rest;
Same causes, same results, where'er we turn—
One man must rule, a thousand towns must burn;
One King must force the tribute grudged by ten,
And blood must flow from thrice ten thousand men.
From Asia's Tyre to Europe's Waterloo,
Rome, Greece, Assyria—modern states and old,
The same dark history is ever told;
The same bad passions in the conqueror's breast;
The same sad folly blinding all the rest;
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One man must rule, a thousand towns must burn;
One King must force the tribute grudged by ten,
And blood must flow from thrice ten thousand men.
Nor these alone the ills that spring from war;
Not life alone is crushed beneath its car.
The dead are gone—the millions sleep in peace
In the calm grave, where all their troubles cease;
But on the minds of living men remain
The deep, deep wounds that never heal again.
Were bloodshed sole and last result of strife,
There might be hope for earth's remaining life;
But ah! war's ravages are less confined;
They blight the soul, they fester in the mind;
They brutalize the hearts of suffering men,
And turn this planet to a noisome den,
In whose dark corners Superstition prowls,
And fear-struck Ignorance lies down and howls.
Not life alone is crushed beneath its car.
The dead are gone—the millions sleep in peace
In the calm grave, where all their troubles cease;
But on the minds of living men remain
The deep, deep wounds that never heal again.
Were bloodshed sole and last result of strife,
There might be hope for earth's remaining life;
But ah! war's ravages are less confined;
They blight the soul, they fester in the mind;
They brutalize the hearts of suffering men,
And turn this planet to a noisome den,
In whose dark corners Superstition prowls,
And fear-struck Ignorance lies down and howls.
Twin-fiends, by War engender'd and upheld!
They people earth with all the imps of Eld,
Raise hideous shapes to stare at in the gloom,
And scare the world with omens of its doom.
In their dark presence Science hides its ray,
And Art, affrighted, wings itself away;
Learning, that flow'ret most divine and fair,
Withers and dies for want of light and air;
And Freedom, fairer and diviner still,
Lies torn, and crush'd, and tortured at their will.
Ah! well they work to trample it for aye!
Tyrants to bind, are not so strong as they;
The first enchain the man's material part;
But they enfetter and destroy the heart.
The power of despots touches not the soul;
The power of Ignorance engulphs the whole!
Thought is enslaved and grovels in the mire,
And Reason crawls, mere pander to desire,
Or shows a wavering and uncertain ray,
To lead its bearers but the more astray.
They people earth with all the imps of Eld,
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And scare the world with omens of its doom.
In their dark presence Science hides its ray,
And Art, affrighted, wings itself away;
Learning, that flow'ret most divine and fair,
Withers and dies for want of light and air;
And Freedom, fairer and diviner still,
Lies torn, and crush'd, and tortured at their will.
Ah! well they work to trample it for aye!
Tyrants to bind, are not so strong as they;
The first enchain the man's material part;
But they enfetter and destroy the heart.
The power of despots touches not the soul;
The power of Ignorance engulphs the whole!
Thought is enslaved and grovels in the mire,
And Reason crawls, mere pander to desire,
Or shows a wavering and uncertain ray,
To lead its bearers but the more astray.
Worst foes of man! by some sage few abhorr'd,
But still by millions cherish'd and adored:
Like the wild fox in breast of Sparta's boy,
Nursed but to torture, hugg'd but to destroy!
Or more insidious, with a specious guile,
They wear an angel's form—an angel's smile,
Then lead their victim with those silken reins,
Harder to break than adamantine chains;
Lull him to sluggish and inglorious rest,
And pluck all virtue from his senseless breast.
Steep him in folly first, and then in crime;
Efface God's image from his brow sublime;
With smiles like Circe's, woo him to a beast,
And cast him garbage for his daily feast.
But still by millions cherish'd and adored:
15
Nursed but to torture, hugg'd but to destroy!
Or more insidious, with a specious guile,
They wear an angel's form—an angel's smile,
Then lead their victim with those silken reins,
Harder to break than adamantine chains;
Lull him to sluggish and inglorious rest,
And pluck all virtue from his senseless breast.
Steep him in folly first, and then in crime;
Efface God's image from his brow sublime;
With smiles like Circe's, woo him to a beast,
And cast him garbage for his daily feast.
Oh, foulest things that crawl beneath the sun,
Who shall recount the evils ye have done?
Where shall the mind, o'erwhelm'd by shame, begin
The long, unhappy catalogue of sin?
Lo! Egypt's children clasp their hands in prayer,
And ask a dog to save them from despair;
Raise mighty temples on each hillock's brow,
To chant triumphal pæans to a cow!
And Syria's tribes, deep sunk in blacker night,
Shape out a Moloch, and in public sight,
In adoration of his fearful name,
Consume young babes in sacrificial flame!
And Budha's priests, degraded even as they,
Erect a block to worship night and day,
And preach the doctrine, e'en while they adore,
That man is nothingness, and God no more.
Taught by his creed, behold the mild Hindoo
Committing murders of the blackest hue.
At Brahma's shrine he bends the suppliant knee,
Then lights the torch to fire the red Suttee;
Strews the rich incense for that rite abhorr'd,
And the poor widow burns beside her lord.
Oh! veil thy visage, thou insulted sun!
Light not the hellish deeds that men have done.
Fierce Juggernaut comes yelling from afar,
And eager victims bleed beneath his car!
The Thug walks forth and murders for a trade,
To please a goddess by his frenzy made;
And every doctrine most abject and foul,
Has its own million to adore and howl!
Who shall recount the evils ye have done?
Where shall the mind, o'erwhelm'd by shame, begin
The long, unhappy catalogue of sin?
Lo! Egypt's children clasp their hands in prayer,
And ask a dog to save them from despair;
Raise mighty temples on each hillock's brow,
To chant triumphal pæans to a cow!
16
Shape out a Moloch, and in public sight,
In adoration of his fearful name,
Consume young babes in sacrificial flame!
And Budha's priests, degraded even as they,
Erect a block to worship night and day,
And preach the doctrine, e'en while they adore,
That man is nothingness, and God no more.
Taught by his creed, behold the mild Hindoo
Committing murders of the blackest hue.
At Brahma's shrine he bends the suppliant knee,
Then lights the torch to fire the red Suttee;
Strews the rich incense for that rite abhorr'd,
And the poor widow burns beside her lord.
Oh! veil thy visage, thou insulted sun!
Light not the hellish deeds that men have done.
Fierce Juggernaut comes yelling from afar,
And eager victims bleed beneath his car!
The Thug walks forth and murders for a trade,
To please a goddess by his frenzy made;
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Has its own million to adore and howl!
Blushing for man, we turn our eyes away,
In nearer climes to find a brighter day,
And read the legends by our fathers told,
Enshrined in Edda in the days of old.
And there fierce Odin on his fiery steed,
Preaches to willing ears his bloody creed.
Dark Fenris howls, and the great snake, uncurl'd,
Opes its wide jaws to poison all the world.
And gloomy Druids, in their thickets hoar,
Worship their gods with offerings of gore.
In nearer climes to find a brighter day,
And read the legends by our fathers told,
Enshrined in Edda in the days of old.
And there fierce Odin on his fiery steed,
Preaches to willing ears his bloody creed.
Dark Fenris howls, and the great snake, uncurl'd,
Opes its wide jaws to poison all the world.
And gloomy Druids, in their thickets hoar,
Worship their gods with offerings of gore.
If pain'd with these, we turn our gaze again,
And view in Greece and Rome more polish'd men,
We find the waters populous, and the air
Swarming with gods that start up everywhere;
Some to be dreaded, some to be adored,
And all in season with due rites implored.
Phantoms they seem, all beautiful and bright,
By poets' fancy clothed in robes of light,
But rank in folly, gods all vile and mean,
Lustful, revengeful, ignorant, unclean;
In whose high temples man degrades his name
With orgies foul and deeds of blackest shame!
And view in Greece and Rome more polish'd men,
We find the waters populous, and the air
Swarming with gods that start up everywhere;
Some to be dreaded, some to be adored,
And all in season with due rites implored.
Phantoms they seem, all beautiful and bright,
By poets' fancy clothed in robes of light,
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Lustful, revengeful, ignorant, unclean;
In whose high temples man degrades his name
With orgies foul and deeds of blackest shame!
Humbled once more we cross the western wave,
To the far land that bold Columbus gave;
But still the deeds by Superstition done
Rise up in long array, and one by one
Affright our sense, and make us blush for men
Worse than the fierce hyena in its den,
Which, though it loves the feast of blood to find,
Has some compassion and respects its kind.
Not so the tribes that roam the forest through;—
They eat the victims whom their arrows slew:
Not so the priests of Mexitli the red,
Who strew'd their temple floors with heaps of dead,
Burn'd up their hearts with incense in a pan,
And fed their sacred snakes with flesh of man!
To the far land that bold Columbus gave;
But still the deeds by Superstition done
Rise up in long array, and one by one
Affright our sense, and make us blush for men
Worse than the fierce hyena in its den,
Which, though it loves the feast of blood to find,
Has some compassion and respects its kind.
Not so the tribes that roam the forest through;—
They eat the victims whom their arrows slew:
Not so the priests of Mexitli the red,
Who strew'd their temple floors with heaps of dead,
Burn'd up their hearts with incense in a pan,
And fed their sacred snakes with flesh of man!
Thus hath it been from earth's remotest age.
Though black the record, History's fearful page
Hath many blacker; and amid the few
That cheer the darkness with a brighter hue,
There still remain the dim red spots that show
The strong man's injury, the weak man's woe.
Egypt of old pursued the arts of peace,
And wit and learning bless'd the shores of Greece;
Imperial Rome amid her ruins hoar,
Left proofs of greatness never reach'd before;
But what their triumphs? Whose sad hands were they,
That piled the pyramids to last for aye?
Who rais'd the walls, who built each mighty gate
With which high Thebes girt herself in state?
Who rear'd old Babylon's most gorgeous fanes?
Who shaped of Luxor the august remains?
What were the millions when Athena's name
For art and learning was the first to fame?
What were the multitudes when Rome was great?
What rights had they, or value in the state?—
All slaves and helots!—Slaves were they whose hands
Uprear'd the pyramids on Egypt's sands;
Slaves built the city with the brazen wall,
And hundred gates more marvellous than all;
Slaves to be lash'd, and tortured, and resold,
Or maim'd and murder'd for a fine of gold.
Helots degraded, scarce esteem'd as man,
Having no rights, for ever under ban,
Were half the world when ancient Homer sung,
And wit and wisdom flow'd from Plato's tongue.
Slaves were the swarming multitudes of Rome,
Having no hope, no thought of better doom;
Fetter'd in body and enslaved in mind,
Their mental eye-balls, sear, and dark, and blind,
They crawl'd mere brutes, and if they dared complain,
Were lash'd and tortured until tame again!
Though black the record, History's fearful page
19
That cheer the darkness with a brighter hue,
There still remain the dim red spots that show
The strong man's injury, the weak man's woe.
Egypt of old pursued the arts of peace,
And wit and learning bless'd the shores of Greece;
Imperial Rome amid her ruins hoar,
Left proofs of greatness never reach'd before;
But what their triumphs? Whose sad hands were they,
That piled the pyramids to last for aye?
Who rais'd the walls, who built each mighty gate
With which high Thebes girt herself in state?
Who rear'd old Babylon's most gorgeous fanes?
Who shaped of Luxor the august remains?
What were the millions when Athena's name
For art and learning was the first to fame?
What were the multitudes when Rome was great?
What rights had they, or value in the state?—
20
Uprear'd the pyramids on Egypt's sands;
Slaves built the city with the brazen wall,
And hundred gates more marvellous than all;
Slaves to be lash'd, and tortured, and resold,
Or maim'd and murder'd for a fine of gold.
Helots degraded, scarce esteem'd as man,
Having no rights, for ever under ban,
Were half the world when ancient Homer sung,
And wit and wisdom flow'd from Plato's tongue.
Slaves were the swarming multitudes of Rome,
Having no hope, no thought of better doom;
Fetter'd in body and enslaved in mind,
Their mental eye-balls, sear, and dark, and blind,
They crawl'd mere brutes, and if they dared complain,
Were lash'd and tortured until tame again!
And thus the many since the world begun
Have been for ever sacrificed for one.
The weak have died to satisfy the strong.
And earth has groan'd with oft-repeated wrong,
And still the many, knowing not their might,
Deep sunk in Error's most appalling night,
Have greeted loudest with the voice of praise,
The greatest scourges born in evil days;
Sang songs of triumph, and their incense burn'd
To honour those whom most they should have spurn'd.
Have been for ever sacrificed for one.
21
And earth has groan'd with oft-repeated wrong,
And still the many, knowing not their might,
Deep sunk in Error's most appalling night,
Have greeted loudest with the voice of praise,
The greatest scourges born in evil days;
Sang songs of triumph, and their incense burn'd
To honour those whom most they should have spurn'd.
Light of the World! that didst at last appear,
To chase the darkness of our suffering sphere!
Long ages since, thy mild auspicious star
Rose on the world, and bless'd it from afar;
Raised up the humble, heal'd the wounded mind,
Relieved, consoled, and purified mankind.
Beneath the splendour of thy genial ray,
The thick, dark mists began to roll away,
And Hope, long banish'd, raised her head again,
While joyous angels, in triumphant strain,
Rang the loud pæan to the listening sky,
“Rejoice! O man! rejoice! thy God is nigh!
“Now the new era dawns upon the sight;
“Knowledge shall reign and truth be brought to light.
“Rejoice, O man! ye seraphim adore!
“Peace and good-will shall rule for evermore.
“A thousand darkling years may pass away,
“Ere this fair twilight brightens into day;
“A thousand more may wing their weary flight
“Ere man beholds the perfect noon of light;
“But still the ray shall penetrate the gloom,
“Still shall this star the suffering world illume.
“Glory to God, the Spirit, and the Son!
“Rejoice! rejoice! the dawning has begun!”
To chase the darkness of our suffering sphere!
Long ages since, thy mild auspicious star
Rose on the world, and bless'd it from afar;
Raised up the humble, heal'd the wounded mind,
Relieved, consoled, and purified mankind.
Beneath the splendour of thy genial ray,
The thick, dark mists began to roll away,
And Hope, long banish'd, raised her head again,
While joyous angels, in triumphant strain,
Rang the loud pæan to the listening sky,
“Rejoice! O man! rejoice! thy God is nigh!
22
“Knowledge shall reign and truth be brought to light.
“Rejoice, O man! ye seraphim adore!
“Peace and good-will shall rule for evermore.
“A thousand darkling years may pass away,
“Ere this fair twilight brightens into day;
“A thousand more may wing their weary flight
“Ere man beholds the perfect noon of light;
“But still the ray shall penetrate the gloom,
“Still shall this star the suffering world illume.
“Glory to God, the Spirit, and the Son!
“Rejoice! rejoice! the dawning has begun!”
| The Hope of the World and other poems | |