 | A Visit to Portugal and Madeira |  |
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THE WORM.
1
Thou grovelling horror! thou most abject form!Despised, yet dreaded, scorn'd, yet sovereign worm;
Thou silent, spiry, creeping, ghostly thing!
To thee the swift world bendeth on the wing:
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While thou remain'st in thy secure repose.
Kings go to thee, and quail; and there lay down
The imperial sceptre and the jewell'd crown:
Thou reignest queen, and all submit to thee—
There seems no limit to thy sovereignty.
2
No eagle can escape thee; from the sunIt drops into thy maw: its triumphs done,
Its soarings check'd, its hurrying raptures past,
The prey-bird is thy helpless prey at last:
The conqueror's wreaths thou'rt cunning to untwine,
All hosts, all armaments, must yet be thine—
The victors and the vanquish'd, all must yield:
Yes! thou remain'st true mistress of the field;
They fought, they raged, they struggled, and—they fell,
Conquerors and conquer'd come with thee to dwell.
3
In humble, lowly guise they come, the handUnclenched from the awful bâton of command,
They blow no trump, they boast no triumphs now,
More than the banner—see, they veil the brow!
The hoarse cry “Victory” in their throats they check,
They bring thy trophy—'tis their own bleak wreck!—
For this they wrought, then? toiled, and slaved, and dared
All scathes, all shocks; by no dire terrors scared?
Tush! those they serve shall grasp the prize,—shall shine,
Nay, the possessors, with the prize, are thine!
4
Present and past possessors, rivals, foes,And each proud meed they sought or snatched, even those
They staked their souls on, fired with zeal insane
Their living souls,—thine own, all thine remain.
Men search the unfruitful waste—the old stormy brine,—
Delve the rich soil, or probe the teeming mine—
They wait on Science—seek with sleepless strife
To count the fibres of man's inmost life,
Of Nature's inmost and most hidden scheme—
And still thine appanage their conquests seem.
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5
A little while, 'tis true, a little while,Successive generations bless their toil—
Deem they hold fast those spoils that melt away,
Where can be no Continuance and no Stay.
No; 'tis most hopeless!—Time and thee o'erpower
All th' empty vanities of Life's brief hour.
Strange vanities,—Say! are not all things vain?
Since thy dread mark is on them—thy dull stain—
Alike the car, the tribune, and the throne,
See their proud occupants thy mastery own.
6
Earth's haughtiest warriors, in their strongest fort,Shall yet become thy victims and thy sport;
Learning, for thee, leaves all its cherish'd stores,
Its royal riches on the dust it pours.
Avarice forsakes his hoards; in jocund May
The Bard may haply turn him from the spray
Prank't with new-franchised leaves, or from the dell
Where the rathe violets in their sweetness dwell,
To go to thee!—foul, loathsome thing—to thee,—
Shall the ice-chill coil wind round Eternity?
7
Proud Beauty (though the crowning rose, that threwNew light o'er summer, near it pallid grew,)
Beauty, lays down all—all her sumptuous arms,
And yields the lustrous treasure of her charms,
To thee for ever, thou unvanquish'd worm,
Heir of that universe thou dost deform!
No rebels can disturb thy despot sway,
No rivals lure thy cherish'd ones away:
Yet, hail to thee! at least, where'er thou art
Shall never ache again the o'er-burthened heart!—
8
Then ne'er shall flow again the impassioned tear,To think the death-doomed should be made so dear,
Where sways thy ghastly, ghostly presence, there
Straight yields its blighting rule, Earth-withering Care;
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From thy grim mansions, from thy slimy track;
She lays her rose-tinged cheek in loving rest
Near thee, she pillows thee on her soft breast.
No wars are there—nay, wherefore should there be?—
Resistance and Defiance stop with thee!—
9
No War against the Worm!—there all succumb,Patient and passive,—powerless, checked, and dumb,—
Who dare besiege thy strongholds?—those who dare
Thy sway but spread—thy banquet but prepare,
All helps thy Festival!—When Empires see
War's pomp and triumph, 'tis thy jubilee!—
Hark! sounds the charge,—fierce bursts the artillery's roar,—
Heroes in nations swell thy State, and store!
Success and Conquest even seek one dark Shrine,
Dominion, Pride, Renown, one gaol—'tis thine!
10
Perish the powers of Honour and of Arms,Before thy path,—sink Glory's glittering swarms;
Still, thy reign, too, shall end, pale Queen of Dust,
This world of worms is not the Christian's trust:
Destroy it!—gnaw it to its granite core!
The undying spirit lives yet more and more!
Eternity flows through its every thought,
Thy deeds shall be undone, thy works unwrought:
Oh! what a glorious world shall that yet be
Which waits to rise from ruins, and from thee!
11
What wish can match it, and what dream can paint?Even Hope and Expectation there was faint;
Come! wing'd Imagination! fearless power,
Soar in thy fiery freedom's raptured hour,
Trace link by link, and light by light explore
The electric chain of Life that ends no more:
The immortal mansions greet, whose boundless blaze,
For ever kindling, brightens on the gaze;
High Priestess of the Charnel, hence! away!
Nought in that wondrous world can prove thy prey.
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12
Come! wing'd Imaginations! lift the soulBeyond where light may reach or systems roll;
Come! rake the roomy Thought from space to space,
Till all creation round its powers embrace:
It cannot stretch so far, nor mount so high
As that new field of man's great destiny—
For him a fresh bright universe up-springs,
On fire with Joy, ablaze with Crowns and Wings,
Beyond this sphere, so dark with cloud and storm,
Whose mightiest conqueror is its vilest worm!
| A Visit to Portugal and Madeira | |