 | Honour to labour, a lay of 1851 |  |
TO MRS. ANTHONY BARCLAY, OF NEW YORK,
THIS LITTLE WORK IS DEDICATED AS A SLIGHT TOKEN OF REGARD,
BY HER TRULY AFFECTIONATE FRIEND, THE AUTHORESS.
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HONOUR TO LABOUR.
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Hosts of the Invited World! ye come with many-trampling feet,To the Island Queen's Imperial shores, and her thousand-palaced seat,
Ambassadors of world-wide Peace, ye need no blazon'd state,
Vaunt-couriers bright sped first, and knock'd at th' ancient city's gate.
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Your Nations have sent glorious works, and off'rings rich and rare,And the gorgeous Trophy-pile is built, as of sunshine and of air!
And each miracle of finish'd art, and each master-piece of skill,
There enshrined, would seem to bind the Lands, as with links of Beauty still.
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On! Come on, ye mighty Armies all!—in your pow'r and gladness come,With no bounding death-balls in your train, with no roll of stormy drum;
Xerxes ne'er saw such myriads throng'd, on the crush'd and groaning earth,
But 'tis to hail War's down-fall now, and th' Undying Concord's birth.
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They come, and with them troops unseen, of a high-sphered heav'n-born throng,These to the inner life of Man, and the heart of things, belong,
Before them, with them, round them press, that aëry, deathless crowd,
And fairer Retinue ne'er Monarch own'd, e'en in 'mid triumph proud.
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Ho! Poursuivants of Scheme and Dream,—of Daring and Emprize,Ho! Servitors of Patience calm, and of Perseverance wise,
Spirits and Genii, Shades and Powers,—how bright and bless'd ye are,
Hope and clear Faith, and Zeal and Trust, and Truth, which nought shall mar.
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'Tis Labour's Coronation-festival!—raise her anthems now on high,Let their thousand-thund'ring chorus rend, the glad dome of the sky,
Open the flood-gates of your joy, Earth! long constrained to bow
Before your Desolators' steps,—hail your Deliverers' now!
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For your Benefactors such shall be,—the adorners, culturers, friends,With th' Inauguration of their state, Lo! your long Probation ends,
Shout to the Heavens!—up! wildly up, with your whirlwind-cry of joy,
They come to glorify and gild, and th' old Destructions to destroy!
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Let us borrow from our Erin's speech, rich tones of warmth and worth,—(She, the beloved and tried of Heav'n,—the Desolate of Earth,)—
From her, from th' old Atlantic's gem, the green, green, mournful Isle,
Snatch a heart-warm gush of living words, to greet them with the while.
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With a hundred thousand welcomes, hail the pilgrims as they pour,In eager masses dense and close, down on th' expectant shore,
With a hundred thousand welcomes loud,—and a hundred thousand still
Accost th' unarm'd Invaders, with one heart, one voice, and will!
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Advance! glad Legions!—much to praise, to applaud and prize is found,But your Presence must the crowning Light, and chief Triump shed around,
Aye!—your Presence, of the Crisis-Hour, must yet the Crowning be,
Forward,—then forward!—march! ye Hosts of the Strenuous and the Free!
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Haste!—ye Victor-Sons of Labour!—throng from many a distant land,Haste!—to Labour's royal Jubilee,—a most Triumphant Band!—
Conquerors!—whose strong right arms have wrought, brave wonders evermore,
Staunch Heroes of sore-travail'd hours, true heroes to the core!
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Approach!—'tis Ye and such as Ye, have lent, our Earth so fair a guise,Still the great World-Statue from your hands, doth ever lovelier rise,
And Ye beautify and brighten still, and fling full many a grace
On that Heav'n-upturning Countenance,—Creation's awful face!
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Wrought with sculpt'ring craft, and chiselling touch, and labour'd strokes of art,See!—how almost like a living World, it seems to breathe and start!—
By their moulding tools, and fashioning skill, their mast'ry is reveal'd,
Till each charm is heighten'd, and each flaw is o'ershadow'd and conceal'd.
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Conquerors?—Yes! Conquerors! ye have won, full many a victory stern,And for ye, should echoing Pæans burst, and illuminations burn,
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And loud Multitudes come forth to greet, and, be proud!—behold!—they do!
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Conquerors!—Yes! Conquerors!—many a Fight have ye not stoutly won?—Even though all uncheer'd by hopes of Fame, the toilsome race was run,—
While ye wrought in dearth and gloom full oft,—nay! with obloquy and blame,
But yet ye wrought, and dauntlessly, and triumph'd, and o'ercame!
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At the Festival of Nations now, be your true position gain'd,Be th' injustice wither'd from the World, which hath long disgraced and stain'd,
Which hath long dishonour'd and defiled, and cast a gloomy shroud
O'er the radiance of its Aspect bright,—Oh! be breath'd away that cloud!
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At this Festival of Nations thus, be your Hope's bright summit reach'd,Be a worthier field accorded ye, and a loftier doctrine preach'd,
Oh! brave Industry! let grateful Earth now bless your name revered,
And Art! by sympathy sublime, be each high Conception cheer'd.
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And now the glorious triumph-car,—the wond'rous Show prepare,—All is expectancy and bliss,—away with doubt and care,
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And an Universe speeds hurrying on, with a proud delight elate.
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Where are your Captives?—Warriors of this fresh, this blessed strife!Speak!—Ye, who round you deal not Death, but a far intenser Life,
Science and Art and Industry!—come forward and declare,
Where are your prison'd Captives, for your Crowning triumph fair?
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See the chain'd Lightning, and the Child of Water and of Fire,All the Forces, all the Elements, that for Man's weal conspire,
And observe th' arrested Sunbeams on their course of splendour stay'd,
And mark how paint themselves in pow'r, th' o'er-master'd Light and Shade!
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See the vanquished—th' outstripped Time, and th' all but vanquished, o'er-leaped Space!—Oh! they have Captives bright and great, their chariot-wheels to grace!—
Look where the disembowell'd Earth, yields wealth from rocks and mines,—
All that adorns and aids Man's life,—all, all that serves or shines!
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Mark the tube, that reaches in the Sky, such heights and depths sublime,Lo! the awed Soul seems half inhabitant of yon star-strown, glorious clime,
As though no longer limited to earth,—nor lacking wings to speed
To where th' Immensity is beck'ning on, and Immortal longings lead!
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And a thousand startling Marvels and consummate Triumphs show,That the wrestling World hath overcome, full many a hateful foe,
Gaunt Superstition fell and foul, and Inaction cold and dumb,
And the drear, debasing tastes that now, with their grovelling glooms succumb!—
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Fear not to press your forward march, all ye Spirits strong and bold,Say! are Angels not your vanguard?—shake out wide your banner's fold!—
Know, your gains and guerdons shall be such, as ye shall never lose,
Not when the King of Terrors e'en, shall your mortal eyelids close.
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Earth! Earth!—how soon thou'lt bear the impress, of Man's wonder-working hand,Stamp'd on every Isle and Continent, and on every distant strand,
Thou shalt be Slave unto his might,—a most willing, gracious Slave,
And like a Dream of Heav'n shalt smile, soft round his very grave!
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Now let Ocean wed with Ocean! —and let th' embosomed Valleys rise,And the Deserts lose themselves in bloom, and laugh out against the Skies!—
Let the Mountains open for his paths, their everlasting breasts,
Or before him bow like Eastern Slaves, their cloud-capp'd, towery crests.
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Yea, let them stoop their stately fronts, to their statelier master's feet,Of the monarch-mortal far and near, shall some kingly tokens greet,
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Her Human King's broad Arrow, stamp'd on th' ancient Hills and Shores!
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Come from each hidden niche and nook, with sample, tool and plan,—Stand in the Sun!—Majestical Intelligence of Man!—
Like Uriel in the fullest blaze and boundlessness of Light,
Stand and display to all around, the armed secrets of your Might!
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Fear not Neglect, or Scorn, or Wrong,—the mandate hath gone forth,Flock from the East, and from the West!—Speed ye from South and North!
Ye, who have pass'd your fever'd hours in the cank'ring coil of care,
Or in practical pursuits engrossed, or creations bright and fair!
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With great spoils of mightiest Intellects, in their princely pow'r and pride,Let the humblest Handicraftsman's works, be ranged, e'en side by side,
Let th' Imagination's loftiest Dreams, stoop to journey hand in hand,
With the lowlier pow'rs that body forth, their phrenzies wild and grand.
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Courage!—let all their talent bring, th' Inheritance they hold,Straight from the King of Kings—haste, haste, that talent's truth unfold,—
Whate'er it be, forth spread it now,—for how could ye be forgiv'n,
Should the entrusted gift be veil'd and snatch'd, from impoverish'd Earth and Heav'n.
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Let your fellows, the fruitions of your studious labours see,Ne'er again let ill-starr'd worth disguis'd—wrong'd and unhonour'd be,
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Of shrouded powers, and wasted wealth, of the human heart and brain!
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No Newtons lost, to Heav'n and Earth, shall perish in this ageUnknown, uncrown'd, without a place, reserved in Fame's great page—
No Watt's unprized, no Arkwrights scorn'd,—seek an untrophy'd grave,
Foster'd shall be each faculty, the Almightiest Ruler gave.
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Earth claims ye all,—her glorious sons!—whate'er your part and path,She hath need of ye,—and meed for ye,—and a blessing deep she hath!
She waits for ye—she watching waits, whate'er your school and sphere,
Now let great heart, and glowing brain, go forth as peer with peer!
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Earth claims ye now, her labouring sons,—let no rare thought be lost,No art, no skill still-born decay, she hails th' Industrial Host
Towers no glitt'ring Mausoleum fill'd, with a dead Show's dull parade—
See the Beautiful, and the Useful there, well-reconciled display'd!
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And if the Beautiful alone, claims here and there a place,Those bright works shall lift and light the mind, and link with living grace.
E'en in the cottier's humblest shed, full soon may scepter'd Art
Store her gracious gifts to charm his thought, and to soften soul and heart.
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Myriads await to bless their names, who bring their bright designs,Fair proff'ring here th' unbounded wealth, of their teeming mental mines
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For the blessings of Humanity, shall hang about your names.
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In your first, fresh op'ning track, perchance, ten thousand minds shall move,All yielding ye, as they pass along, th' ovations of their love;
They shall track your steps, and tread your paths,—they shall follow where ye led,
And the heighten'd light of full Success, they shall round your fair names shed.
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They shall train the tree ye planted first, they shall watch its growth and tend,Till they bring your bright beginnings, to a high and prosperous end,
Building on your foundations, mightier Superstructure still,
And yet owning half the triumphs yours,—the honour'd Fathers of their skill.
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Come then forth to Fame, ye Workers, in the humblest walks of life,With the glorious Emulations fired, wherewith the time is rife,
By th' illustrious Tribulations stirr'd, of an epoch bright and strange
Which seems now to shake our conscious Globe, with the steps of coming change.
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What a Tourney of the mind is this—and of Enterprize and Art,And how strongly beats all the uproused World's vast Earthquake-throbbing heart!
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And a golden largesse of renown shall rain down on worthy heads.
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Enter the Lists, all Nations!—See the glorious Jousts prepared,—On your Coursers of the lightning haste, for the loud long blast is heard,
Shatter'd is air by clarion sound—Charge! charge! with spur of fire,
For your quarrel hath high argument,—Earth ne'er shall know a higher.
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Challeng'd and Challengers shall greet in a bright alliance join'd!Their Great Dispute who most shall raise, most bless and aid their kind!
Heaven!—it seems a living Earth in place of a whirling clod of clay,
And Existence shews a nobler thing in the Life-quakes of To-day.
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Be to his service consecrate, who bathed thy face in Light,Orb of our Occupation!—made still brighter and more bright,
While Science, Wisdom, Knowledge, Art, lay their works and homage there,
And for His high Worship make the Globe—all a giant temple fair!
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Build up now your Babels unreproved—up! toward the gracious sky!Be each glad success as Hymn and Vow, to the Majesty on high!
What were Success—what Triumph, that might not be offer'd up,
E'en to Thee Oh! Giver of all Good!—but the froth on Life's full cup?
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But every just and sage Endeavour—and each honest aim atcheivedMay be dedicated unto Heaven, and at Heaven-gate received,
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And the strenuous labourer for Man's weal, a bright award may crave.
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Oh! the Glory of the Majesty that waits round Man's great mind,When Truth and Knowledge draw it forth, and its smoth'ring coils unbind.
For, swathed round in Custom's strangling folds, too oft that mind hath groan'd,
But a new Grand Impulse is at work, be the ancient wrong atoned.
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Now Genius!—for thine advent!—for thine Enthronization,—Art!Down with each human-fashion'd check,—Earth! act thy better part
A Second Atmosphere long wrapp'd our World, but no bright hues to spread,
Not to diffuse the blessed Light,—but a dreary gloom, to shed!
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Yes, Environ'd 'twas in Atmosphere, unlovely and unbless'd,Form'd of dull Vanity and Doubt, and of bitter Strife's unrest,
And of Ignorance and Bigotry, and of Prejudice abhorr'd,—
'Tis vanish'd!—and 'twixt Earth and Heav'n streams but the eternal word!
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'Tis vanish'd—with its chilling shades, and its dead'ning, leaden shroudsShutting out half the light of Heav'n with those Sun-obscuring clouds!—
Now burns the far sublimer Sun that lights th' undying mind,
Without a spot or hindrance dull,—in the Soul's own depths enshrined!
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Now let Man's busy brain and hand to th' utmost strain and strive,Now let earth's myriad Sybarites learn, indeed what 'tis to live,
Let Men repeat th' old Roman's speech, let them nobly grieving say,
When not all their hours are heap'd with good, that they thus have “lost a day!”
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Oh! let not e'er those Hours go empty, from your thresholds, for they bringGolden urns within their rosy hands, as they hover on the wing,
Proffer'd to all, are these to fill, haste! be still the tribute giv'n,
Nor send back empty-handed Hours to Eternity and Heav'n!
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Send them not back e'en as they came, Alas! it never can be so,Soil'd are their precious sunny crests, and their sweeping wings of snow.
With the shadows of Mortality, all dimm'd and darken'd o'er
And bless'd with no propitiatory gifts, from the soul's exhaustless store.
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But let me turn to all the joy of these most triumphant days,To this Tournament of Labour held, in a glitt'ring Temple's maze,
Captains and Chiefs of Labour! Ye, her chosen Cavaliers,
Come ye on and break a gallant lance, with your rivals and your peers.
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For the lowliest, for the meanest, yet may blaze the Victor's crown,Now the Obscure shall win aggrandizement,—shall be gazed upon, th' Unknown!
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In the World-Queen's echoing Capitol, was crowned with shout and song.
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Monarchs of Nature's crude rough forms,—Lords of her rugged frame,From whose ribs ye draw such glories forth, and such small advantage claim,
Look round, 'tis your Regalia there!—those works ye have atchieved
Shall stand th' Insignia of your pow'r,—by your hands from darkness heaved.
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The ancient granite and the marble, from Earth's groaning bosom torn,By ye have been constrain'd and ruled, and long your yoke have borne;
Trees from ten thousand Forests rent, have chang'd like wand-touch'd things,
One vast array of conquests shines,—'tis your Regalia,—Kings!
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Kings? No Hosts, no Courts, ye need, Your power, is in your toiling hands,On Scrolls of iron Ye inscribe, undoubting, your commands.
And ye write upon the adamant, that ye have enslaved its strength,—
Shall your rugged brave dominion, not be known and felt at length?
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On the living rocks and hills your shattering Signatures are graved!Bears the burning gold your charact'ry,—and the pyramids ye have heaved,
For in Mountains of your raising,—heaven-kiss'd piles, up-reared sublime,—
Ye have sent immortal Embassies to the orient Stars and Time!
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'Tis the Artificer's high Vintage-feast,—'tis his stately Harvest homeBeneath this diamond-shining bow, this day-transpiercéd Dome,
The sheaves stood thick, red gushed the streams, Heav'n bless'd the rip'ning year,
Roll on, bright merry-making hours, gladden'd with heartfelt cheer;—
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Swarth artizans, mechanics pale and husbandmen long wornWith wearying tasks, rejoicing wend on their lighten'd way this morn
With deep delight, and thrilling hope, they hear and heed the call,—
Joyous Harvest-home and Vintage-feast, and Gala-hour for all!
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Mind of the world, on! On!—and let that Land to day be first,Which best shall serve Improvement's schemes, and bid Truth's bright fountains burst—
First in these happier days shall shine, on the blazon-roll of Fame,
The adventurous bold Inventor's, and successful Workman's name.
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And the astute Discoverers too, in aught of Science and of Art,Who shall gain a world-wide brave renown, in town and field and mart;
Not now shall men dark fame atcheive, by the slaughter of their kind,
But chief by th' electric influence, and the kingly sway of mind!
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Oh! Progress!—who hath seen thy face, nor own'd its charm divine,Doth not th' Universe's Glory seem, through thy countenance to shine?
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Ready to do the will of those who pay thee homage meet,—
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Ready to do their will, to wear their yoke and heed their hestAnd to bare their secrets and their pow'rs, to their scrutiny and quest,
Progress!—to thee we dedicate, the Deed, the Dream, the Day,—
'Tis thy magnificently-grand Emprize, and sovereign proud array!
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Man's life is strenth'ning, deep'ning now, while Truth new radiance sheds,And the enlight'ned spirit in his breast illimitably spreads;
Suns burn with it,—Worlds rock with it,—thrice glorious sight, behold!
Great Creation seems as 'twere recast, in a more majestic mould!
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More nobly soars that spirit still, uncheck'd by doubt or fearLight flows through it,—Pow'r springs from it,—Joy!—an Era bright is near.
Embodying as it onward flies, its visions and its views,
That mighty Mind unwearyingly its stately march pursues.
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Heaven made ye to be makers, Men!—fear no presumption there,See, your tools are scatter'd waiting round, and materials full and fair.
Up with a shroud of scaffoldings,—to your world-work!—to your task!—
And the blessing of the Almightiest King, on each staunch endeavour ask.
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Say, mark ye not that mighty form, o'er the horizon hov'ring bright,In itself it seems a moving Sun, and a white-wing'd Heav'n of Light,—
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And where'er it shines, Great Acts spring armed, from thunder-fronted Dreams!
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That mighty Form, itself a Dream, of dazzling strength appears,Of a lovelier Globe the likeness wrought, on its garment's hem it bears.
Thousand companies of Angels, on its awful steps attend
In their Chariots of the Whirlwinds—in their beauty without end.
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Lo! Its head is veiled midst blazing worlds, and its hand uplifts our own,And its stature groweth, gathereth still, to a heighth as yet unknown,
Through that transparent Dream-shape, shine, half-glimpsed, Creations new,—
Thou! Starry Progress!—Thou'st burst forth, like a life-morn, thus to view.
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Mind of the World, wake more and more, at Her thrilling trumpet call,Melt the pale seal of old Ignorance,—break Sloth's dull icy thrall,
E'en like the Archangel's trump shall peal, that summons to the strife—
Wake, ye dead souls, ye dormant minds!—to a new and nobler life!
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The Meanest as the Mightiest, they have all a part to act,Let this one rear ennobling Fictions,—to be far outrun by Fact,
And let another on Discovery wreak, his energies and powers—
And this in Thought, and that in Work, fill up th' ever-busy hours.
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Systems are labouring round us; nought is slumb'ring, nought is still,They are carrying out some mighty scheme, which they yet shall well fulfill,
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Motion is Work; from Duty's paths, they ne'er shall shrink nor swerve.
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And know, a myriad suns round One vast sun, are hurl'd in dread career,That Central Sun, but one of hosts, driv'n round some mightier sphere,
While Progress grand, past all man dreams, or phantasy could build,
They still subserve, sublimely trained,—in their boundless lessons skill'd!
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Epochs are crowding thickly now,—Oh! History, what a page,Burning, and breathing Light, shall prove the Record of this age;—
Ideas are Empire!—far around what Combinations proud,
Calm Conflicts,—Great Mind-Congresses, with a Sovereign Grandeur crowd.
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Though at the threshold we must pause, and the vestibule of things,—(Since Greater Works are growing still from countless seeds and springs,)
E'en in our bounded World, be sure is the impulse grandly felt,
And Progress ever looseneth more Thought's adamantine belt.
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Down Ignorance!—Inaction,back!—and for ever pass awayYe Shapes and Shades of Gothic gloom, shrouding the smiles of Day,
War, avarice, wrath, corruption, schism, hence! vanish from the scene,
Usurpers of a Universe, too long ye all have been.
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Come! Princely Paladins of mind, bring all your Arts and Aids,For too much of dull Pollution still, our blighted World degrades,
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A vast Pyramid of gorgeous Spoils, and a Mountain-height of Dream.
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Let Hope plunge her celestial hand 'mongst the immemorial stars,And Intellect uprear his Towers, and burst through Creation's bars,
And let Science bare full many a path magnificent and vast,
Where shall rush in bright Conceptions new,—Wealth upon Wealth amass'd.
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All have their work, their task, their part, their honour'd place assign'd,All may bid the broad Dominion spread, of Man's ever-op'ning mind,—
Mysteriously Magnificent the astounding march proceeds,
Higher and higher tow'rs Thought's reign, as on and on it leads;
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And at each advancing step far round, Creation widening grows,And still Man shall find the more to learn, as still the more he knows,
And an Everlasting Why and Whence bids th' unwearied Questioner pause,
While Causes link'd to Causes blend, and Laws spring forth from Laws.
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New moods of Mind, and modes of Thought, shalloft varying seek in vainTo penetrate the Arcana deep of their never-ending reign.
Vast Deep in sooth, still calls to Deep, and Height shows Height afar,
Is a giant Universe not born from each fresh-discovered Star?
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Progress!—if we could search their Depths, there thy Shadow still should fall—Salt of Creation's Ocean thou!—the life-blood e'en of all!—
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Fresh birth, fresh form, fresh glory, and still bourgeons and begins:—
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Oh!—thou Secret of the Immensity!—Thou breath of Pow'r Divine,All are dead at Soul and void of Hope who stoop not at thy shrine,
All around are Stepping Stones for thee, and Scaffoldings and frames,
For the proud uplifting of thy dreams, for th' unfolding of thine aims.
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How from the mean comes Mightiness, by thy great Fiat wrought,And what Strength from what seemed weakness, by thy Magic wand is brought,
All, All to serve, thine Ends are shaped, thy tow'ring ends sublime,
Bidding Eternity's great breath, ruffle the Seas of Time.
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Progress!—The Morning sees thy Dawn o'ertake her earliest hours,And she finds thee crowding on her wings a freight of nobler pow'rs,—
Aye! each Morn a more majestic world in wonder glad shall see,
She,—with the Sun upon her brow, shall win fresh light from thee.
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Yea, each hour hath holier freight and weight, and Majesty and Might,And each Day hath loftier Destiny, and a clearer flood of Light,
Proud rich Yesterday must pale beside the enrich'd, more proud To-day,
And To-day shall to a rival crown'd, and mightier, yield the sway!—
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All Elements, all Mysteries, Truths,—all motions and all means,All Forces, Principles and Pow'rs, that haunt these earthly scenes,
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And all follow thine appointed paths,—all observe thy sunny rules.
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Thy swift foot is on Tomorrow's neck, ere its flight it trieth yet,And a Sun is bound upon thy brow which shall never fade nor set.
Oh! Progress, thou'rt the Spirit's Soul, the keen life of our life,
And all seems Night and Phantom, that knows not thy Heavenly strife.
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Time starts and trembles as he runs, Earth shudd'reth to her core,Space rolls her burning waves of worlds, towards some yet undream'd-of shore,
For Creation's mighty Currents set, in some grand direction still;
Strange hidden course to absolve, and mystic duties to fulfil.
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Waves of Worlds? Aye! blazing Oceans heaved o'er blazing Oceans still,Ye cannot frame true thoughts of them, e'en with Fancy's wildest skill—
See, great films of Worlds—yea!—mists of Suns, and yet each pursues its way,
Calm, as all depended on its course, and all own'd its radiant sway
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And not a moment streams in glory from their dazzling foreheads dread,That doth not roll an added, heighten'd pomp, of power and pride to shed,
A new added wealth of triumph deep,—as on, in bliss they move,
Rightful course and Process of all Worlds, shall Advance and Progress prove!—
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Queen of Our Earth's immortal Soul!—we mark thee more and more,Teaching Thy great Spirit to her Sons, far deeper than before,
Men may dream not whence first springs, whence starts, this movement vast and dread,
But yet far around, and farther still, the widening circles spread!
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As when the thundering Cataract maddened bounds, with a stormier uproar down,And a mightier wreath of the eddying soam, forms its dreadful forehead's crown—
Ye know well the Torrent's swoll'n above—that its Streams augmented flow,
That the Mother-Mountains far are steep'd, in the sheen of melting Snow.
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So, while ye mark these freshening floods,—and these strengthen'd shocks of thought,Doubt ye not some glorious work of change is in far-off regions wrought,
There is sure some quickening Impulse felt, of height'ning pow'r and might,
Is't some new great Mandate's myst'ry-burst? is't some Brother born to Light?
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Is some late-wrought universe of worlds,—of mould before unknown,—Launched, Complete, through its tremendous Scope—while vibrates thus our own?—
And hath this shudd'ring thrill magnificent, that leaps from mind to mind,
Its high wak'ning spring, and lightning-birth, where nought shall check or bind?
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Some far, far links are grandly touch'd, beyond yon sun-strown plain,And the Electric shock is keenly felt through the whole stupendous chain,
Strange swift rays of light, may yet be, toiling travellers on their way
From where that mighty movement-myst'ry starts, with an instantaneous sway!
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Of answ'ring chords attuned, a harmony—and of kindred throes sublime,This 'tis makes thee flutter on thy flight, like a stricken Eagle,—Time!
So the Soul's great Silence feels the thrill, e'en as oft are felt in air
Strange undulations deep that move, like a mystic music rare.
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Our world seems lifted on a wave, whose high exalting crestUp-raises it from wrath and wrong, to a golden hush of rest.
Discovery, come!—Invention, haste! Genius, unveil thy brow!
At the gath'ring of the Nations, ye, thrice-crown'd shall triumph now.
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Fair seem'd of yore the Gath'ring of the old Clans in muster proud,Where the summoning sign was borne aloft, and the battle-cry rang loud,
Where their glittering blades, and tossing plumes, fretted the light of day,
And they march'd in th' arm'd magnificence, of their warlike proud array.
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Was't a fair sight? yea, doubtless 'twas, in its order and degree,But Oh! think!—how far more noble this, must in its fullness be;
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Ye are bid to this grand Banquet, all ye races of Mankind.
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Prelude to Understanding good, and to Fellowship with all,This great concourse of all Tribes and Tongues, should surely be, and shall,
Where the Crystal Colosseum holds, in its treasure-house enshrined,
The upgath'red marvels of the world,—shines their Palace of the Mind!
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There Ye see what ne'er the world hath seen, till this proud auspicious day,Though in sun-thoughted Poet's mind, such rainbow'd dreams might play,
What jewel-pyramids of boundless price, are in those depths amass'd,
Rich as fabled genii-structures, in the old legends of the past.
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And Hope, Love, Brotherhood have met, on that starry threshold fair,And kind Charity, Good will and Truth, are together lingering there,
While the Giant War there mourning stands, with his blood-stain'd arms reversed,
For the white-robed Peace hath snatch'd the crown, from his withering brow accursed.
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What a wond'rous gath'ring!—see the sons of Gallia's neighbouring shores—With the swarth Hindoos, from dusky plains, where the ancient Ganges pours,
From the Hyperborean Cæsar's realms, from the Tartar's rugged home,
With their varying garbs, and hues, and speech, they come, and still they come:
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From old Norway's roaring forests deep,—from Italia's purple plains,From the Switzer's hills, where Freedom lives, and the Freeman's memory reigns,
From the classic haunts of golden Greece, most famous of the fair,
Still they come in living floods, they come, all fast assembling there!
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From the ever-blooming groves where tow'r the feathery queenly PalmsLifting their heads of beauty midst the sultry Tropic calms,
From the banks of grey old mighty Nile, and the shores of far Cathay,
They come on their glad pilgrimage,—fair Albion's guests to-day.
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The brother-multitudes press thickly on, in their brave and stately cheer,And the mighty Masque of Nations is unfolded proudly here,
Let the clarion's peal burst sounding loud, and the artill'ry's thund'ring crash,
Where the glorious Dome is shining, like a long long Lightning flash!
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Like a second Day-break in the morn, like a sea of Sun below,Shine!—with a World's transcendant spoils enshrined midst that deep glow—
What a Tent and Tabernacle this, for Commerce in her state,
What a Dwelling-place, where mirrored Suns like warders watch the gate!
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Is't of the encrusted dew of Morn, all petrified,—up built?—This most wond'rous Temple-Vision with the Sun of Morning gilt?
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Or of feathery frost-work of the North,—glancing back stars for stars?
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Or art built of Boreal Lights that dance, where th' Arctic regions spread,—Where wild Lances shift and shoot,—vast Bower!—and their weird effulgence shed;
Or of th' ice cliffs glist'ning bluely there,—of huge leaves of splendour shorn,
From their polished sides and beamy steeps,—fronting the death-cold Morn?
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Thou'rt like a Milky way, all fretted in ten thousand varying shapes,From whose light a very mist of stars with a sumptuous sheen escapes,
Like a wrought and carven Galaxy,—far showering lustres round,
With a wealth of strange resplendence, burthening th' o'er-illumined ground!
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Aye!—thou Palace-Hall of Nations!—Thou'rt bewilderingly bright,As though yon Ocean's foam upheaved, flash'd far, in a pillar'd arch of Light!—
Or some shiver'd Diamond-Mine was tossed into Architectural forms,
While the very Sunbeams quivering play, like the arrowy flash of storms.
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England!—this proud Experiment hath justly sprung to birth—In thy Central City glorious,—almost Capital of Earth!—
Mistress of Trade and Traffic thou! Commandress of the Seas!
Where is a spot that doth not hear thy glad shout on the breeze?
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Sounds the gallant beat of England's drum,—it sounds from pole to pole,“Keeping company with the aëry hours” doth its echoing thunder roll,
Wide waves the pomp of England's flag, wherever man is found;
And a Freeman stands where'er streams bright its royal light around.
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Now the Sovereign and her Mighty Men, her laurell'd chiefs and peers,Enter that dazzling crypt of Light, midst a hurricane of cheers!
Loud as the stormy bolts of Heav'n, bursts the Artillery's bellowing roar,
And the stately Pilgrims gladly land on the Crystal Island's shore!
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Straight the Sovereign and the Prince beloved, with a radiant Court around,Are ushered through the portals bright of that wide enchanted ground,—
Thrills the flourish of the Trumpets high, loud peals the batteried roar,
As the royal Pilgrims land in joy on the Crystal Island's shore!
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Caught in a Cloud of Light and Flame, the Imperial Pageant seems,Where like a storm of Sunbursts bright, the redoubled daylight streams.
There, thick-bower'd in roses stands a throne, beneath the old elm's droop'd boughs,
Blaze! thou light! thou art like an Aureole round Earth's loveliest monarch's brows.
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Bow down, Magicians of old times,—and chroniclers of these;Fling your rich fancies far and wide, e'en as ashes on the breeze,
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Had he seen this Glittering Wilderness, all flooded with the Sun.
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Thunder on! thou peaceful cannonade,—lend thy deep long-echoing soundTo swell this happy storm and strife of the festal noises round,
Hark!—the roar of wheels,—the din of tongues, and of countless steps, the tramp,
Hark!—the iron clang, of thousand hoofs, where the foaming coursers champ.
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Still as the stillness of Night's noon, where a broad Savannah spreads,And not a floating breath awakes, to bend the dew-dropp'd flow'rets' heads:—
The Scene seems spell-bound,—hush'd, as all were stricken into stone,
While a prayer goes up to Heav'n above—to the Eternal Ruler's throne.
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For a blessing on this Enterprise,—First,—Lone,—Untried before,—Goes up now that thrilling Prayer serene, which the lips of reverence pour:
No precedent hath this great Feast,—no predecessor proud,—
And with no traditions is't enlink'd,—with no memories rich, endow'd.
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The First!—but what a Following this shall surely glorying have,Shall not Festival chase Festival, e'en as Wave succeedeth wave?
Like the Seasons in harmonious march, shall they pass in progress fleet,
Till the World is Widely spanned by them, and the circle is complete.
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First!—but Forerunner crown'd be thou!—th' example to the Earth,Oh!—from thee what celebrations bright and bless'd shall take their birth,
Till that garland-zone of Festivals, wreathes the ancient Earth around,
Like a rich, charmed Cestus, dowering it, with a Beauty past all bound.
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For a blessing on this Enterprise, unknown, untried before,Goes up now the thrilling prayer to Heav'n, which a thousand hearts shall pour,
For a moment like a Minster, with strange glory in its aisles
Stands this Dome beneath the impressive calm, 'midst the Morning's purple smiles.
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For a moment like a Minster vast, in that mist of silvery airSeem'd this Garden-shrine o' the flow'rs of mind,—fill'd with the breath of prayer,
And, Spectators of that gracious scene,—thronged audience dense and vast,
Knew, ye e'er more reverential thoughts, through the flown years of the past?
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'Tis a noble joy, a hallow'd joy, the unwonted scene inspires,—And the bosom glows with speechless zeal, and a pure devotion's fires,
Think! How poor, how vain were after this, the world's light coil and mirth,
And the oft dark, deadly happiness,—and the canker'd bliss of Earth.
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'Tis a triumph pure as sacrifice!—Oh! a rare and costly thing!For too oft have Earth's festivities, been wrong'd by strife and sting,
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In the calmness of a great Content, o'er Life's unruffled deeps.
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This aerial Temple of the Sun for a moment seems a FaneAll consecrate to Heav'n and Prayer, without a cloud or stain,
And be it consecrate indeed—as it now o'erflowing stands,
With the products of Man's thrift and thought, and the achievements of his hands.
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Hark! how gloriously the organs peal, our echoing anthem now,Thunders with thunders volleying on, while all hearts in homage bow,—
Heaven save the Queen! Long live the Queen! Oh! bless her, righteous Heav'n,
And we Thank thee, That to us Thou hast thus, a peerless Monarch giv'n.
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High Thanksgivings, Oh! thanksgivings! for that mercy vast and deep,High Thanksgivings that no vigils vex'd, our country needs to keep,
And that while so many lands have mourn'd, in suffering and dismay
Serene Tranquillity possessed our nights,—and flow'd on with our day.
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Queen in the North and in the South, Queen in the East and West,The crowns of many subject-lands, on thy beauteous forehead rest,
And this day's surpassing triumph adds, a new and Heavenly gem
To the gorgeous circlet round thy brows—th' Imperial Diadem.
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And how seems it on thy forehead set 'mid this proud consummate scene,Where the multitudes of people met, pray around their praying Queen!
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Ne'er became them like their clasping meek, in this deep momentous hour.
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For the good of wide Humanity, thy sovereign hand hath wrought,To the Nations thou a new-born source of lofty bliss hast taught,
Be wreathed with the Universal joy,—with the People's great delight,—
Crowned Cornelia of the Nations!—these,—these are thy jewels bright!
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Throng'd hosts of millions hurrying pour, in a rushing stream to-day,Ruled by our Empress of the Isles, in her sovereignty's chief sway,
E'en The sway of love and feelings deep,—Pow'r, that by silvery cords,
Draws the deep devotion of all hearts, rich with affection's hoards.
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Oh! Queen, thy Kingdom, in this crowning hour, advances far beyondThe ordered limits of a rule assign'd, and an earth-power's charter'd bound;—
Far through the deep worlds of the heart, and the empires of the soul,
It entereth with awe-striking sway, and with mystical control!
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Now the State-Procession brightly moves, through that Palace in its pride,Counsellor and leader, judge and peer, are grouped on every side,
Great Captain of our Country!—thou! thou hast join'd the Pageant there,
Chief of a thousand battles! which secured a peace so fair!
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For to thee this long auspicious pause, this harmony we owe,Praise to thee, praise from all, shall pour, from friend and e'en from foe;
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And thou gav'st back to a hallow'd calm, a world long riven and rack'd.
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Peace hath indeed her victories proud, and we celebrate them hereWith a tumult of exulting sounds, with hymn, and peal, and cheer.
Blow! loud Clarions!—with the Lightnings chain'd, Ho! another captive,—War,
Sound! of Peace 'tis the Austerlitz august,—or the tow'ring Trafalgar!—
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Yes!—Another Power is captive led, in this kingly Triumph's train,With the fetter'd Lightnings—the o'erleaped Space, stern War of the iron reign!—
Fall'n, with his dire attendant Ills—the Arch-Terror well adorns,
The Nations' vast rejoicing march,—on this conquering Morn of Morns.
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Peace! Thy many mighty conquests seem concentrated in one,In this Mountain-heaving Victory, this Display of all thou hast done,
Many a Navarin and far-famed Nile, here flourisheth, whilst fair
Thy never-wearied weapons gleam, and thy loud charge sounds in air.
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Shines the Sun of thy bright Austerlitz, whilst, thou, untiring still,Crowd'st fresh conq'ring field on conq'ring field, with thy valiant heart and will!
And thy Pyramids of trophies proud, upwards and heavenwards soar
As each field of fame thou gain'st, but makes thy just ambition more.
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Gracious Monarch of our Mighty Land, how meetly Peace doth seemBeside thy throne to take Her stand, and to bask in thy mild beam.
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That Land which owes to both so much, of hallow'd happiness.
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Surely ne'er in times of old, or in Napoleon's laurell'd hours,Was Earthly Chief Oh! Queen, so near as thou, girt with all Earthly pow'rs,
When the accorded homage of those hosts for a moment saw them bow
At Concord's Throne and thine, thou bor'st, the World's-crown on thy brow.—
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Queen in the North and in the South, in the West and in the East!Queen in all Zones and Climes and Seas!—and of regions still increased;
Where England's territorial splendour grows, in the sumptuous realms of Ind;—
(Where she finds a Wilderness before, and a Garden leaves behind!)
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Oh! Industry!—Be proud!—Be glad!—Labour, thy head upraise,—There is something for ye nobler still than this Sunrise-shaming blaze!—
Something nobler than these tributes bright, offered by Land to Land,
With the luxury of profusion e'en, of bounteous Nature's hand.
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Honour'd gloriously Ye are! for something prouder doth await,'Tis the royal homage of this Queen, in her majesty of State.—
Queen of an hundred Empires, at whose throne vast Nations bow,
See her marshall'd Pageantry and Pomp in Your honour, gathered now.
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Queen of a world of Empires!—All her Sovereign pride she bringsTo deck Ye with, and make your march, like a sounding march of Kings!
What lacketh? Nought,—with the Empire's flow'r she comes, and there behold
Blazoned Kings-at-Arms, guards, poursuivants, and followers clothed in gold.
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Princely proud companions with Her come, from friendly Lands afar,Nought shall dim the mighty spectacle—Nought the unmatch'd scenery mar,—
Every stainless forehead though unplumed, may now be reared in pride,
Now shall cloth of frieze and cloth of gold, walk smiling side by side.
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Oh! thou holiest Ostentation, thou most precious Pageant, hail!In thee the meekest have their part, and thy glory shall not fail.
Lo! the Imperial Pomp, the Imperial soul of our most matchless Queen,
Willed, should show'r down e'en on all, who claim their share in this proud scene.
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And the trumpet's startling flourish, and the battery's loud salute,Now Resoundeth to your glory,—of whom History long was mute,
Herald, Men-at-arms, page, chamberlain, Marshal and yeoman ranged
Wait to do Ye honour,—Ye!—So long from Fame's proud walks estranged.
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Surely ne'er yet was such Pageant with such accessories seen,Worthy of England's guest—the World,—and of England and her Queen,
How the famed Field of the Cloth of Gold, compared with this would fade,
Though two Monarchs met in splendour there, in dazzling pomp array'd.
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Generous Prince!—how nobly well thou hast plann'd, with what bold far-reaching thought,That sage lore thy studious mind first learn'd, thou to all earth hast taught,
And the populations far and wide, shall with praise and reverence own,
Laurell'd Conqueror, Statesman, Chief nor King 'ere earned such just renown.
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Most Princely Magnanimity!—with unblamed aspirings join'd,There hath tower'd true kingliness of Soul,—true royalty of mind,
Thou would'st upraise the long droop'd front, cheer the long discouraged heart,
Would'st justly arbitrate and bid, the many-centuried Wrong depart.
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From that Mind's munificence, take state and nobler station now,Rise! Staunch Industry! with vigorous hand, and swart and sweltering brow,—
Since his voice—brave, liberal voice!—hath said, “For Ye, too Fame's great race!”
Place for the Workers of the World!—for the labouring thousands, place!
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Place! and the soaring Eagle's too!—Great gifts they give to Earth,—Their Life, Strength, Nerve, Time, Health and Hope,—and are these things nothing worth?
Place! Place! and the Eagle's!—let their deeds shine forth in light at last!—
Truth shall vindicate Great Labour,—long, the Pariah of the Past.
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Mount Your Crystal Chariot now in pride, staunch Industry, serene,—'Twill waft ye to a loftier height, to a statelier stage and scene,
Mount your Chariot of the Chrysolite,—for it moves on unseen wheels,
Which shall bear ye straight to reach a goal where Fame's high pæan peals.
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Mount your most outshining Chariot,—and pass dauntless on your way,Where the upspringings of Your Spirits prompt,—and on glorious ventures prey!—
Giving chase to many a lustrous hope, carrying out full many a Dream,
Wreaking your Souls on Great Emprize, and on World-subduing Scheme.
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Charioteer'd by just Ambition,—pass rejoicing on your way,With the untarnished laurel on your brow, that is made your own to-day,
Mount! Henceforward,—honour'd Labour! Oh! henceforward fear ye not,
That pale Disgrace shall to your name attach, or Scorn o'er shade your lot.
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Like a Crystal Alp, this Crystal Ark towers o'er a sea of heads,And the smiling May-day Morning round, strange festal radiance sheds,
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And the illuminated Galleries gleam,—and the Walks of Wonders blaze.
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Have thrice ten thousand Royal Argosies, here heap'd all Earth's wealth and worth,From the bright luxurious South and East—from the Giant West and North?
Doth there shine one treasure still, that is not Garner'd and amass'd,
In this Labyrinth of refulgent Bowers, in these Alleys wide and vast?
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Nature seems to join this Revelry!—like a Queen of her own May!—Here smile her verdurous stately Elms,—though their leaves are still to-day,
Though no birds 'mongst the outstretched branches sing,—and no Zephyrs shake their boughs,
And no dews are glittering on their crests—the anointing of their brows;
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Hush'd, still hush'd, Old Elms!—Ye seem to stand all breathless with surpriseIn the presence of Man's thoughtful works, which round ye clustering rise,
With such cunning skill embellish'd, these, and deck'd with such nice care,
Not the tracery of your own vein'd leaves, can be finer, or more fair.
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And well may ye stand marvelling there, for beside that dazzling show,Near your mighty trunks what rivals bright, with strange rich foliage grow,
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And the old North salutes the Orient, where your shadows almost blend.
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Oh! Ye Palms and Elms together link'd, and hush'd as though amazed,Let your Emerald branches shoot and soar, without a fear, upraised,
Soar!—Ye cannot reach the o'er arching roof, that in yon blue, blue sky
Now seems bathing all its brilliant Crest, so springs it far on high.
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Old Elizabethan Elms, that saw the Queen of Lion-port,Like a tower of Strength majestic stand, 'midst her awe-struck-breathless court;
Ye have seen another Queen more fair, with a Lion-port as proud,
Though the softness of the snow-white Dove, smooths her brow without a cloud;
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Though a mild seraphic sweetness stamps her countenance of light,And fills that blue-heav'n eye, so glorious in its majesty and might;—
Dread Elizabeth when glorying o'er the Armada's strength destroy'd,
Ne'er such zeal inspired, nor triumphed, 'midst a Realm so overjoy'd.
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All around is strange, though beauteous too, strange those Many-branching trees,Awed as 'twere to frozen stillness,—exiled here from bird and breeze,—
And with the utterance of man's breath alone, to thrill light spray and leaf—
All around is strangely lovely,—and 'tis no vain vision brief!—
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Bubbling founts and rainbow'd flowers, too, witch the wond'ring sense beguiled,Midst the bronzed and sculptur'd groups of Art, in their haughtier Mastery piled,
And all things of Beauty and Delight—of Luxury, Wealth and Grace,
Here seem muster'd, mingling lustrously,—each in its own fair place.
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Rhododendrons, bloom! and Roses blow,—rich hyacinths! expand;—Ye too well attest the all aiding touch of man's unwearied hand,—
Since He plays with hues of changing flowers,—and wields e'en at his will,
Their varying forms of loveliness,—with a strange and wizard skill.
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How well know'st thou this, Oh! Architect of this bright Temple!—thou,Who hast train'd whole forests of fair Flowers,—rich as the Sun's own bow,
For thou hast painted with their colours!—On their chequered pages light,
Learn'd, like some most rapt fantastic bard, aërial thoughts to write,
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On their jewell'd pages thou hadst learn'd to trace new splendent dreams,And those fairy things in bright return, brought Inspiration's gleams!
So true it is the Beautiful, to Her zealous votaries brings,
A hundred fold of happiness,—quick'ning all Life's precious springs.
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What splendours rare of mighty Nature,—and of Art are here display'd,And how glad a compact thus to-day, 'twixt the awful twain is made,
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Gleam mid choice displays of workmanship—in a labour'd glory dight.
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Look round ye,—what a chaos fair!—gem, shell, tapestries, flowers and fruit,Above, around, beside, beyond,—heap'd o'erhead and underfoot.
Where all Zones and latitudes and realms, all Seasons, soils and climes,
Seem to meet in wond'rous Union,—and all scenes, and spheres and times.
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All products of the Earth and Seas—every Master-piece of Man,Like the Drawn-up forces of a World, at every turn Ye scan,
E'en as in haunts of Nature wild, where her uncheck'd fancies play,
All seems confusion rich, yet reigns, bright Order in the array!
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Caskets, frames, and mirrors, urns and lamps,—wrought webs in endless change,Types of half-forgotten ancient arts, and barbaric splendours strange,
Tusks of th' Elephant, and gums, and scents, stained woods, and spiceries rare,
Blend with broideries of all rainbowed hues,—and enamell'd tablets fair.
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Hundred-branching candelabra, and gigantic gates that show,In stubborn iron the aëry freaks, that on facile ivory grow,
And many a graceful fabric, with elaborate traceries wrought,
Goblets wreathed, and obelisks and shrines, and columns high and haught.
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Rude Bedouin Tents o'the Camel's hair, such as those which struck mine eyesWhere like Storms of fire beat down broad Suns, of Afric's reddened skies,
With works of old Tunisian art,—fez, bernoose, and thick-gemmed reins,
Works unchanged since the ancient days when rang, the wild Zorzico's strains.
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Gracious Statues lean by pyramids of precious matchless things,And there hang bright, hushed, unsounding harps,—fair lutes with silent strings,
There gleam plume and bead and rose-lipped conch, and richly painted skreen,
That with fluttering scarf and pennon gay, vary the 'wild'ring scene.
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And pure Sardonyx and Malachite, their costly splendours show.Near the porphyry's far-famed polish,—near the Parian marble's snow,
And the Alabaster clear, so clear, that if e'er it shrines a light,
Th' unchanged flickering flame shines gleaming, through its mild transparence bright.
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Think, for this great hour, what work, what toil, what service hath been done,What vigorous sinews have been strain'd,—what labour-battles fought and won!
Foundery, Machine, and Axe have striven, and hammer, loom and wheel,
And all obey'd their fash'ning powers, silk, marble, gold and steel.
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And Plough, and Spade, and shears have work'd, furnace, and forge, and Mill,They nor paused, nor stayed, th' untiring Slaves of their restless master's will.
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Well the work of Preparation sped, stoutly from Sun to Sun.
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See proud Heraldry's emblazonings, in a gorgeous maze display'd,Rich gules, and or, and ermine fair, with a sumptuous sheen array'd,
As though the irised flames in precious stones, o'er their burnish'd pride was shower'd,
Crimson and gold, and azure bright,—with a meteor's radiance dower'd.
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Mark Ye, jewell'd Scimitar and Dirk,—blades damaskeen'd and fair,Poniards and daggers with their hilts, all gemm'd o'er with treasures rare,
And bright woven mats, and flower'd brocades, and garnitures emboss'd,
And thick-tassell'd draperies sweeping low, finish'd with care and cost.
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Cresset, crown, and cross, and bell and font, fair rosary too Ye see,—Those perfumed strings were surely brought from the odorous Araby,
Cups of jewel-crusted roughened gold, arrest the wandering Eye—
Jasper, pearl, and onyx, bronze and jet, and gems of richest dye.
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And wrought palanquin and Ostrich fan, and deftly-ordered sleigh,And caparisons all Gold-emblazed, and deep-border'd Trappings gay,
And decked, castled towers—up-builded on those scarlet housings fair,
Thrown o'er th' Elephant's huge ponderous back,—the howdahs rich and rare.
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How hath old Mythology brought here her countless shapes and powers,Nereid, Faun and Dryad, gnome and sylph and the elves of roseate bowers,
Here Cytherea leaves the Sea, all in furrowed silver rolled,
There Apollo's Great Sun-chariot flies, with steeds that ramp in gold.
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Oh! how fierce a strife and stir hath raged o'er all the peopled Earth,And to what a wild commotion gave, th' inspiring Summons birth!—
How while toil'd huge caravans along, o'er scorch'd up desert sands,
Strings of groaning Camels brought rich loads, to the old lone glorious strands.
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How have laden Llamas climbed the steeps of proud Peruvia's peak,Where the old Caciques' deep softly-sounding tongue the Sun's dusk children speak—
How have rein deer rush'd o'er noiseless snows, to bring strange tributes fair,
And the divers sobbed, and the hunters roved, to send meet offerings there!
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Look thou up! grey Hindoo devotee in some torturing posture cramp'd,Man may something better do than spoil the Image Heaven hath stamp'd!—
Know, the meanest who is toiling near, at his honour'd task employ'd,
Shall more win Heaven's Grace and Smile, than thou,—with thy life and soul a void.
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What rich Phantasies and dreams, and flights, we view embodied round,How Imagination joys to shew she scorns to own a bound,
Ye whose skill hath hewn those stubborn blocks, or carved that yielding wood,
There first pour'd your thoughts—then paused those thoughts, as fixed in frozen flood!
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Through their works, they seem to sing and speak—warbling and whispering well,As the Dreamers in old Eastern Lands, through flowers their fancies tell,
Through their works they seem to sing and speak, till ye can almost say
What mould of mind, and train of thought, stamp'd the fashion'd ore and clay.
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Surely revell'd in that ponderous bronze, some mind of strength and might,—Wreath'd that costly wood in graceful forms, some Ariel-spirit light!
And some fiery thought hath burnt its rage, through that mass of mimic strife,
Till the madden'd marble seems to quake, with a shock of stormy Life.
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And a soul contemplative and calm, hath shower'd its light and love,In those fairy traceries soft as snow, on the boughs of wintry grove,
While a mournful fancy sad and still—there leaves its touch of pain,
On faint-visioned shapes evanishing—like dying music's strain.
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And like strong Founts of Passion there o'erflow, into the gazer's heart,Yon heaven-stamped Triumphs, warm with all the inspiring zeal of art,
Like blind Milton's pawing Lion, half, they burst from earth set free,—
Half held back, bound, struggling,—yet seems Earth, Their captive e'en to be!
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Still Man's Thoughts and Dreams thus wrestling heave, from Earth, part wrenched, part torn,Though the World that nails them down, might seem their captive dragged in scorn.
Not thus Milton's Lion struggled;—Conquered,—conquering these have striven,—
Half in Earth's dark graves, half grappling with the Empyreal thrones of Heaven.
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Have ye seen where bright mosaics gleam, and rich inlaid pavements spread,And where deep-stained glass would seem around, strong sunset-lights to shed?
And where o'er the rarest porcelain fine,—are scattered paintings fair,—
Or where spray-like arabesques appear, to be broidered on the air!
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And Columned porch, and finished Architrave, and tripod carved, and bust,And Angel-shapes too bright themselves to look, on such a World of dust;
But they are smiling on our eyes consoled, in marbled forms serene,
And they are lending new enchantments to the never-wearying Scene.
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Have ye seen choice amulets and charms, salver and sculptur'd vase,Tall Pagoda quaint and idol-forms,—strange arms for war or chase,
Or yet nobler far have ye beheld, planned models, where in state,
Glorious fairy cities seem to spread, with street, tower, square and gate.
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Graced with mighty docks for ships in fleets, all copied with such faith,That ye almost start to mark them lie, still as pale realms of death!—
So unmatched is th' execution fine, so mimick'd to the life,—
Is the scene in all except the stir—the ever-hurrying strife.
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Rich are indeed the amass'd contents, but the place itself how fair,Vistas bright of Walks, and proud Arcades,—length'ning—still length'ning there!
And broad corridors and avenues, all lustrous and all lost,
In their own far off recesses, like an ever-varying coast.
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Courts, Domes, Alleys vast, and spreading Halls and Chambers wide and grand,All entrance the view while still they seem, outstretch'd on either hand,
And so huge, 'tis said, hushed solitudes, here spread,—if such there be,
They should seem impressive spots, so near the roarings of life's Sea!—
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With its arch and aisle and portals proud, the structure shines and gleams,Like a bright Cloud-City mirror'd, in a thousand sparkling streams,
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With the steadfast-glistening radiance, that doth never intermit.
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Hath the Sun caught up from earth refresh'd, a thousand by-past Showers,And hung them in a vaulted pomp of fairy-palaced bowers?
Shimmering and quivering in their light 'gainst the blue and beaming day,
By wonder-working spell constrained, in unfalling streams to stay.
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Fair are indeed the amass'd contents,—but the place itself how fair!With th' illuminated corridors, the arched streets of meteors there!—
And with many a quaint adornment fraught, in coigne and nook and niche,
Worthiest shown of all that it enshrines of wealth and bravery rich.
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Like a silv'ry Exhalation sent from earth unto the skies,And arrested by some wizard wand, its fantastic beauties rise,
Transept, and arch, and gallery, steeped in floods of jewell'd hues,
Seem, that very sky above them, with new splendours to suffuse.
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Like a frozen deluge, Heavenwards heaved, with its mountain-waves transfix'd,All with molten pearls enrich'd and gemm'd, with branched coral grots commix'd,
Like aught mysterious, sumptuous, strange, unheard of and unknown,
Which the face of Earth ne'er yet hath seen, is that pile of wonders shown.
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See ye the flags of Nations mix'd, in a gorgeous union wave,With proud clusters of devices strange, adorning the aëry nave?
Lion, helm, starred crown, and cross, and plume, sword, wreath and tower and shield,
In the old knightly guise of blazon'd state, flash on every side reveal'd.
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Midst them, honour, unto thee, thou Transatlantic Flag of might,Flag of the Firmaments!—bright Flag of fame and flame, and light:—
Glorious banner of our Brethren!—seem your stars with conscious glow,
To blaze down on the Ancestral land, where they cannot light a foe!—
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Flout the air, ye gorgeous Oriflammes!—and through no dread smoke to shine,Where threat'ning warriors plunge and charge, in a deadly marshall'd line,
All breathes of bliss and hope, hark! hark!—hymns, cheers, and festal bells!
And gonfalons and gongs alike, shew how joy's wild current swells!
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Proud Pavilion, why!—thou'rt all arrayed in a very flame of light,—Flashing like swords against the sun, are thy peaceful lustres bright,
Proud Pavilion! though not gliding o'er smooth seas, or glassing stream
Like our London's giant Bucentaur shalt thou in glory seem.
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Be thou her blazing Bucentaur, while with Commerce for her PriestShe comes forth to wed her Ocean, in a most refulgent vest,
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And all remindeth of his might, in our London's kingly towers.
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Joy! All breathes of hope! Look round:—how doth on every side increase,All the orbed Power, Pomp, Pride and Circumstance of a most glorious Peace!
More effulgent than the treacherous sheen, the plumed and flush'd array,
That marks the horrent hideousness of the awful Battle day.
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More effulgent than the vain parade, which strives round thee to throw,Still, Oh! Discrown'd War,—a 'wild'ring light, to dazzle from thy woe,
For not all thy proudest panoply, not all thy loftiest boast,
E'er could match this Day's assembling calm, of brother Host with Host!
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Peace! Thou art worthier of all monuments, all honours and all praise,Than that spectre-giant, ghastly war, with his banners and his bays—
Throned on mountains of black ashes,—glimpsed through sulphurous-breathing clouds,
Gnashing madly, iron fangs,—and clothed in robes of gory shrouds.
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Yet in the heart of this deep Peace, is a gallant glorious strife,For the Chivalry of Labour burns, with a strong o'er-flowing life,
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Warring well 'gainst all obstructions, all resistance, and dismay.
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Hark! Console thee, War!—fierce combatants, still shake all the Earth around,While sharp contests crowd on contests still,—all ground their battle-ground!
Since they fight with Matter, th' Elements—a thousand awful Powers—
And crown'd Victory after Victory, marks the proud flow of their hours.
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Brightest Conquests!—happiest Conflicts!—not a scar they leave behind,Not a tear to dim a living eye,—not a sigh upon the wind.
Oh! Well-warring Peace,—Oh! peaceful War—unstain'd and undefiled,
Thou mak'st no Solitudes, but turn'st, to a Paradise the wild!—
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In the strength of such a War-in-Peace—our City smiles to-day,Exulting in the accomplish'd Deed,—in the splendour and the sway,—
Well mayst thou shine forth, old City! in thy grandeur and thy state,
Shine! While the Universe is thund'ring at thy queenly, tow'ring gate.
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For the Universe is knocking at thy gates of state and strength,'Tis a true Peace-Congress, here in sooth, the Nations hold at length,
Though the bright May Day, shall pass away, with its ceremonials fair,
Fast, through long glad summer-months shall stream, the human rivers there.
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Well mayst thou thus smile, Old City! in thy Royalty and State,Peace and Plenty, Power and Triumph, now are thund'ring at thy gate,
Come ye forth, in all your bravery, Ye! the magnates of the Land,
And ye, thronged multitudes come forth,—grasp the World's outstretching hand!
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Doth Time's River widening flow, toward deep Eternity's great Sea?Widening grandly, as it onwards streams, with a Mightier motion free,
Aye! to the Ocean of Eternity, with a deepening tide it runs,
And it gathereth and it broadeneth, with the unfolding march of Suns.
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More resemblance to that Ocean vast, the increasing stream displays—Crowding circumstance sublime, still openeth onward with the days;
There great breadths of thoughts find space to sweep, in a statelier track aright,
There full-orbed Omnipotencies deign to glass themselves in might.
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Go, sounding, onward to thy Sea, to the unfathom'd Deep of Deeps,River proud, whose every precious wave, so rich with treasure sweeps,
Widening, deepening, heightening, strengthening, spread, thou great, thou glorious stream,
While with emulous enlargement swollen, those mustering currents seem.
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Shout and Sing!—Ye, people!—Louder sing!—Shout!—Sing—in mightier strain,'Tis Discord's requiem that ye breathe,—ye hail Fraternal Love's true reign.
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That requiem echoeth to the Earth, and the sounding air and sky.
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Shout ye all, that deafening chorus, midst glad peals and tromps and chimes,All ye tongues and tribes and races,—of all hues and creeds and climes!
Soon these polished walls shall vibrate, like a stricken Harp, aloud,
To the inspired acclaim, the shoutings of the many-legioned crowd.
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Chaunt!—Yea! Chaunt!—Oh choir! and loudly chaunt, ye have glorious theme for song,Sing high Blessing on the Nations, as in 'wild'ring mass they throng;—
Sing Heaven save the Queen! Long live our Queen,—Oh! Bless'd be her bright reign,
That golden reign of Peace and Love, peal thou on!—Transcendant strain!
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Chaunt, Chaunt loud! Oh! Choir, and People chaunt, Heaven bless our glorious Queen!Heaven bless All those Nations too, that round her sovereign throne are seen,
Sing Heaven bless the People! send the sound abroad in boundless might,
Was e'er heard so proud a sound before?—E'er seen such dazzling sight?
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Oh! far Royaller shows this revelry, than e'er was held before,Royaller than all the Masques and Mimes, and the plumed Parades of yore,
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And all combine th' astounding Scene, with a matchless state to robe.
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Now, no phalanxed armies for our guests, proud spectacles shall form,With their thund'ring evolutions, shaking Earth as 'twere a storm,
But thrown wide, these opened pleasaunce-grounds, tempt Thought, which pondering strays,
Learning lessons in this leisure bright,—hoarding Truth that ne'er decays.
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Here Pleasure treads in Wisdom's paths, and e'en Indolence is roused,To praise Toil's glorious attributes, in His glowing Mansion housed,—
In this hive of quick Humanity, which hints what shall be done,
When the treasure-gatherers find heaped flowers, spread for them in the sun.
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Pause where The Amazon writhes all on fire, with wrath and vengeance fierce,Till the lightnings of her life, seem through the shuddering bronze to pierce,
Seems the thrilled air round to heave and pant, to the pantings of their breath,
As she meets that gnashing Terror, with a mightier Terror,—Death.
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Raging Amazon! that bronze seems dewed, with the sweat of death and life,Curdling flesh, strained muscles, quivering nerves, cease, cease, your throbs and strife;—
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Did he lend to what ne'er lived, one moment's hideous pang—to die?
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And there a crowned Tremendous Splendour threats, a dread Archangel towers,All one grand winged War,—fallen star of Morn! to ruin rush thy Powers;
Well 'tis seen that dreadful arm of might, with its all resistless blow,
Hurls not death, not peace, nor rest, but the Immortality of Woe.
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Ye have gazed on bust, and harp, and wreath, and on Sumptuous garb and gear,Gazed on the antlered spoils of far off wilds, on sharpened sword and spear,
On jewelled Scymitar and shield and casque,—stored weapons for the chase,
And on Orrery and Mighty Tube, that hath governance o'er space.
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And on monument and massive gate,—and sweeping banners starred;—On the kingly Lion's hard-won skin, and the Pride of Elk and pard—
And on tapestries like a flower-strewn field,—thickened with broideries o'er,
All the wonders of the Persian looms,—and the old Asiatic shore.
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On glittering miles of spoils and trophies!—lengthening leagues of splendours bright,Such as Necromancer's mirror erst, were wont to spread to sight,
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In these matchless fields of Art,—these golden gardens of the mind.
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Ye have gazed on starry tissues, like the gossamer's light web,Brighter yet than Sands where sparkling streams, of the El Dorado ebb,
On carven chair and couch, of state, with Emblematic birds and brutes,—
And divan meet for Sultana's bower, with rich mimic flowers and fruits.
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On cloths of gold and silver, starred, o'er-wreathed,—fringed, diapered thick, and flowered,Flushed like Sunbeams pleached with rainbows, orient rose-blooms 'mongst them showered,
On pearl-dropped Stomacheres, and sapphired loops, and forehead-jewels fair,
And Ind's Light-Mountain, making diamonds, of all the argent, neighbouring air.
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On illuminated page and print, and on golden-glist'ring chain,And on coracle so light 'twould float, like a flower-leaf on the main,
Ye have gazed on bright Mosaics, and on tesselated floors,
And on flickering flames of precious stones,—and on mines of gathered ores!
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On proud Colossus towering high, and on sylph-like form and fairAnd on perforated stone-work quaint, on cameo choice and rare.
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With th' inanimate bright objects, too, that crowd her streams and plains;
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On Creation's gathered copies fair, and on phantasies that play,O'er the pondering brain of Man, in dreamy witchery of array—
And on forms grotesque, on Sea nymph pale, mermaid or sphynx, or shapes
In some Bacchanalian-clustering groupe,—rich with tendrill'd vine and grapes;
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On confusion gay of Dragons, fays, Chimeras, Sylvan troops,In forests Silver-branched and Silver-bowered, where glance the immortal groupes.
Here see the Oreads smile, and there, again, th' old Triton blows his horn,
And the golden-tossing foam seems dashed, far round in playful scorn,
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Ye have gazed on pedestals and palms, and on Pyramids of pomp,On those children of the Sun, bright flowers, and on organ, lyre and tromp,
On thick-wrought balustrade of bronze, chased ewer, and vase of burning gold,
And silvery censers, like to those, whence oft, th' incense breath hath rolled.
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Ye have paused by shaggy hunter-spoils, brought perchance from near the pole,—And by the Ermine's precious fur—that shines so oft' on regal stole,
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And musk and frankincense and myrrh,—and the wealth of coral-cells.
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All imaginable treasures—and the boast of countless Lands,(From the sterile shores of Labrador, to the sumptuous Orient's strands,)
Are shining there as through transparent tides, of tropic seas might glance,
The mysterious spoils of the Ocean's depths,—where the arrowy Sunbeams dance.
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Thus, Earth! thy spoils shine through th' enshrouding sea of blazing starry glass;Heaped, in many a rare resplendency, and in many a wondrous mass—
Through this gloriously up-gathered wave of Crystal and of fire,—
For Oh! it sparkleth in the noon-day Sun, like a sacrificial pyre.
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Fair are the amass'd contents in sooth,—and th' o'er-arching shrine how fair!—But yet fairer seems the Human Stream, that flows in joyaunce there!—
And of tribes long sunder'd, long estrang'd, this meeting glad and free,—
Aye! a fairer sight than all methinks, this glorious sight must be!
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This proud meeting of long-sever'd streams, in one bright Ocean-flow,Whose living waves all stormless heave, and whose sunlit currents glow,
'Tis the glory of the whole Great Scene, whate'er its scope contains,
Since, higher than all his works, his world, Man, Heaven's Crown of Works, still reigns.—
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Thus this mingling of long sunder'd tribes, ranged gladly side by side,This vast press of populations, by a new strong bond allied,
Should enchain the eye through tears of joy, Should thrill th' awakened heart,
Shall not the brother-love remain, when the brother-tribes depart?
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High Carousal!—glorious Wassail! Saturnalia of the Soul,Pure, unblamed,—with gracious influence fraught, these feastful hours shall roll
Fear ye not, ye earnest Wassailers;—Those precious draughts ye drain
Shall but prompt great thoughts, and bring brave dreams, and freight the quickened brain.
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Chaunt, Oh! choir, and People!—People join!—Honour to Labour sing,Homage chaunt to Labour!—Kings!—hail now, your tributary King!
Honour bright, and homage, health and wealth to Labour evermore,
Let the jubilant Acclaim sound on, from echoing shore to shore!—
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Sing! chief, sing it where its Palace stands, in majesty to-day,Like a retorted Cataract crowned, with its own clear flashing spray.
A Niagara of Crystal, back in beaming silence driven,
To lay a lovely smiling siege, at the o'er-arching cope of Heaven.
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Room! Ye Gracious Stars!—Ye worlds on high, of burning splendour, Room!—For a new Refulgent Sister, place! this most rare outshining dome.
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Hath this luminous and lustrous House straight shot to glorious birth.
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Empires! On! the lists are open! bring your blazon'd glories here,Ye shall fight with mightier Weapons, than were ever sword or spear,
Wield the Clouds and Lightnings, On! by ye fierce steeds to-war are driv'n,
Sheath'd their necks with thousand thunders,—with th' electric fires of Heaven!
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Nations!—Hear! the Lists are open! Ho! Proclaim it far and wide,Charge, ye Chivalry of Labour! Charge, in all your strength and pride;
Be this Great Adventure nobly, by your marshall'd powers sustain'd,
Empires and Nations!—Forward!—bring your Conquer'ors tried and train'd.
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Hark! how their Battle-thunders roar,—hammers and anvils loud!—Look! the columned steam upriseth, 'tis their warrior-banner proud!
And the hurrying wheels make music fierce,—Cymbal and Gong were vain—
With Earth-shaking crash and bellowing shout, goes Labour with his train.
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For the thoughts of thousand thousands, wakes new glorious impulse high,Whose still heightening power seems heaving Earth, more near the Sun and Sky,
To this Commonwealth of Conquests, Empires all, and Nations! on!
He who hath not won the field himself, through his neighbour's arm hath won!
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Fierce the din, the wild chaotic strife, as Toil and Nature clash,But Order, Light and Life shall start, as their clouds of thunder crash!—
Play! Wheel, windlass, crank, and paddle play! Roar, Furnace! roar amain,
Legioned Hosts of Giant-demons, Toil! shout, in thy Tremendous Train!
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Like a battle-march, like a flourish'd blast, their voices shall resound,Till all th' eddying air seems winged with them,—seems lashed the maddened ground.
Haste! come on! strong potentates of Toil! ye, his Paramounts and Powers!
There are princely laurels to be reaped, in these great effulgent hours.
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Ho! Charlemagnes of this brave, stirring Peace!—Cids of towering strifes of deeds,Mysteries, Splendours, Exultations crowned, wait where your pathway leads.
In Upbuilding not Unmaking, ye shall wield your gifts of strength,
Till obsequious Nature openeth forth, new Worlds for ye at length!
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Still, still much is hidden, though so much is gloriously reveal'd,Ho! Charlemagnes and Cids of Labour!—To your vast unbounded field!
To your Battle-field, the Universe!—On with your deathless feud,
Stubborn Secrets must be conquer'd yet, harsh obstacles subdued.
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How the murmuring Macedonian, would have envied your proud Hosts,Still to hail New Worlds in darkness veil'd, is 'mongst your noblest boasts;
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And the sphere of Man's Dominion vast, his joy and power enlarge.
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Charge! Ye Flower of Labour's Chivalry,—all your Sumptuous banners wave,Though no ground incarnadined glares round,—Ye strike alone to save,
Spurn ye with glorious spurning, every lowlier, less renown,
Fight for the good of Human-kind, and your own Immortal Crown!—
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With your unstained Crest, and your lance in rest, and your challenge ringing clear,Charge, with bold unvizored foreheads, that have nought to hide or fear,
Peace smiles, Queen of Love and Beauty;—no! ne'er triumphed thus of yore,
Charlemagne, nor Charlemagne's laurelled peers, nor old Spain's plumed Campeador.
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Strike!—Hurrah! Hurrah!—to heal not hurt, to help not harm, ye strike,—And ye couch no ruthless blood-stained spear, no death-dyed murtherous pike,
Thousand Conquerors ye, of thousand fields, with a thousand trophies crowned,—
Hurrah! The Queen of Your Great Tournament, bright Peace, your brow hath bound.
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Nations!—haste! the Lists are open!—stride, ye Champions—to the field,Forth to the glorious Shock,—Charge, Charge,—Ye need not mail nor shield,
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Empires and Nations! Ho!—the Lists are open; do and dare!—
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Proclaim it to the Earth and Stars, to the Air and to the Seas!—Let the long-resounding Echoes roll, on every wave and breeze,
Let the Cloud-land tremble to the sound, Lo! the Standards are unfurl'd,
Make ye Proclamation, far and wide, wake! hear! thou gladdened World?
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From their Thrones of clouds the Mountains seem to lift their startling voice,On their Thrones of rocks, the hearkening Seas resoundingly rejoice;
Make ye proclamation free and wide; brave challenge far is hurled,
Sounds no Tocsin of detested war,—yet Reveillèe to the World.
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'Tis proclaimed to every continent and realm and isle, and zone—E'en by our glorious Ocean Queen, on her Earth o'er-shadowing-throne,
And the answer is—The World in Arms!—in arms for that grand strife,
Which ploughs not Earth to graves, but bursts, to bless and lighten Life!—
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'Tis proclaimed,—with lofty circumstance, to ev'ry Clime and Zone,E'en by our hundred-Empired Queen, on her World-o'er-shadowing Throne,
The Answer proud, shall peal from West and East, shall burst from South and North,
Myriads yet, that earthquake-answer loud, shall peal in triumph forth.
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Convey the tidings on and on, let them hear in the unploughed wild,In the waste and in the forest,—hear it, man and wond'ring child!
The octogenarian silver hair'd—and the youth with flashing eye,
Shall list in glad bewilderment,—and shall shout it, wild and high!—
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In the listening Cities, on the plains, by the lowly cottage-homes,In the camps and fortresses, and there, where tower the old Palace-domes,
Still let that brave sound be heard and bless'd, O! bless'd where'er 'tis heard,
Since Liberty, and life, and hope are in each exultant Word!
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Let the sovereign hear it, and be glad,—and the peasant—and be proud!For a noble object, bright and pure Oh! it surely hath, avow'd,
Hark! and the wielder of the sickle stops,—then works as work were play!—
And the Sower flings rich golden grain, in his mind and soul to-day.
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Let the sound make the iron fetters ring, that weigh down the outrag'd slave,There is hope for him, bright hope,—aye! e'en on this side of the grave.
As the sailor entereth in the port, that sound his bosom cheers,
And the wanderer on the broad highway, hearkeneth with gladden'd ears.
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It e'en starleth yon pale sufferer,—with a cheek of hectic bloom,And it wins a glance of gladness, from the mourner at the tomb,—
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And the very captive the echoes caught, with a wild convulsive start.
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Rise! Adjourn your tears, ye mourners, to some fitlier Season now,Dash the cold, dim Sackcloth from your form, the ashes from your brow,
Puissant Kings and Peoples, now adjust each difference harsh and dire,
Happiest omens thrill the air; speak out, ye tongues of light and fire.
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Aye! the felon e'en hath glared a smile, from his ghastly bodings torn,Though his death-day riseth with the Sun, of the morrow's dreaded Morn,
And the exile shudd'ring with strange joy,—a moment loves to dream,
Where his Countrymen should meet, a new majestic Home 'twould seem.
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And the Bard? with all the Enthusiast soul awaken'd and on fire,He too hears! acknowledging the zeal, those thrilling sounds inspire!
'Tis meet theme indeed for Poet-strains—and in itself it seems—
An epic of a thousand thoughts, and of thousand, thousand, Dreams!
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For high Poet-strains in sooth 'tis meet, this theme of joy august,Hymn the powers that glorify the world, not trample it in dust,
Who with Beauty blend more Beauty—and with glorious genius dower'd,
Add new Grandeur unto Grandeur,—thus alone be earth o'erpower'd.
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Swords! be turned indeed to ploughshares straight, swift shuttles, play the partOf bright faulchions in these Contests glad,—chang'd Earth!—how blithe thou art!—
All the dizzying clang of Discord hush'd—and his thousand banners furl'd,—
And this kindly, brave defiance, peal'd, to the rapt joy-stricken world!
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And that rush of hurrying sounds, that join full well with that proud Sound!While all the arbiters of glorious wars, come trampling o'er the ground,
Avengers!—chastening with hot shame, the spoilers of the earth,
And Liberators—setting free, from a slumberous torpor's dearth.
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Hammers, valves, and bellows, roaring forge, wheels, saws and furnace play;—Lo! the Royal Armaments of Peace on their thunder-crashing way!
And the Ermin'd Monarchs hear the sound—as the world in earthquake reel'd,
And their hundred-bulwarked Capitals,—with a shout of triumph, yield!
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Lo! the Royal Armaments of Peace, on their earth-o'er-shadowing march,Smiles all Nature their Ally—all Heaven, their broad triumphal arch.
Hark! Hark! the shock of thrones,—the crash of Worlds!—shouts Chaos in their van?—
'Tis but the answer all Creation, thund'reth back to conquering man!
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With the blazing tempest of her pomp,—Peace and her powers, behold,She, th' Armipotent!—th' Invincible!—like a dazzling deluge roll'd,
How the whirlwind-shoutings upwards heave, as the shudd'ring spheres to stun,—
'Till the firmament seems rocking—seems to quake the o'ertaken Sun,
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Since the Sun, with Time and Air and Space must follow in that train,Out-stripp'd, beleaguered, Vanquished, tamed, they have worn that Conqueror's chain,
But frown no Hurricane-Eclipsings drear, no shadowings bleak and cold,
No! The Sun shines like a hundred Suns,—more bright a thousand fold.
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For the gladden'd eye, and gladden'd heart, and th' enlighten'd mind of man,Can see th' Elysian beauty spread around, for him in joy to scan,
Not by thy smoke-wreaths, hideous War, and the palls of gloom obscured,
He gazeth round with glowing soul, and a brighten'd faith assured.
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'Tis a happy hopeful Time,—and rife with bounteous auguries fair,When we build our bravest Citadels of Crystal and of air!—
Bulwark of bulwarks—first and best, thou, that under thy vast shade,
Now hast gathered the Empires of the Earth,—in the sheen of peace arrayed.
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Like the Indian Banyan, glorying plant new scatt'ring branches wide,That shall strike deep root, and bring rich fruit,—upspringing in their pride,
'Till they bless a hundred continents, and isles of the ocean free,
Shedding Light and Hope as flowers,—Great Shrine!—like a crystal Banyan be.
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Hail! High Salutations, Labour; unto thee and thine to-day,There are mightier Works of thine to praise, than fair luxury's proud array,
Hark! how the Engine-monsters groan,—those glorious levers of our life,
That uplift it, with their roaring shouts, above the old haunts of strife.
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Yes! th' Intercommunicative Lands, and Provinces and Powers,Have all wooed the white-winged Peace to bless, their grandly-social hours—
Groan on! Throb! Grim engines! for your groans mean triumph, strength, and might,
And yon banner'd tromp's loud flourishes are echoed thus aright!
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Iron Leviathans!—They stir, the awakening Earth as 'twere a Sea,Furrowed, pierced, and torn—She closes not o'er your proud pathways—ye!
Who still plunging on by day and night, with no vain strifes deform,—
Light and Concord spring from that dark rage, as the Sun leaps from the storm.
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Strifes?—Leviathans! Leviathans! from your dread nostrils blow,Strong Defiance to each wrong she fears—challenge to each proud foe!—
Lashing the Deeps of Nations old, till they dash fierce foam on high,
On your long-resounding way ye pass,—as a hundred storms went by.
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Time and Space your mighty hand-maids, wait, and tremble at that tone,Since their realms, their powers, their Sovereignties, their strengths, are made your own!
Groan, Ye Engine-monsters,—Jaggernauts, whose conquering chariots crush,
All dull obstructions in their path, as they onward glorying rush.
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Gird round the World with iron belts, 'tis your kingly prisoner now;Ye have written a new History, on that giant prisoners' brow.
Pour forth wide thy clouds, Oh! steam!—thou new, winged atmosphere of Earth,
From those clouds what genii-wonders still, shall bound to mighty birth.
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As all Oceans were up-gathered now, in one vast heaving wave,Roars the hurrying tread of Empires, in their muster proud and brave,
Advance your Eagles,—wave your Stars, on our billow-girdled coasts,
Millions, wait with deafening Welcomes proud, to thunderstrike your hosts!
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In this Sovereign hour let every flag, float streaming into one,Let all colours take one golden hue,—th' emblazonings of the Sun!—
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The minds of Myriads seem to flash, in One lightning-lengthen'd chain.
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Peace!—Fair Queen! as 'twere for Thee and thine, another triumph yet!Midst that Coronal of Crowns to shine, which round thy brow have met,
See, a late-discovered Star beams forth, and with immortal smile,
Adds new glory to thy glory, as she takes thy name the while.
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Another glimpse at great Creation, another step in space,Another treasure in the Golden House of Heaven, our thoughts embrace,
Another string given to the Sun-God's-Lyre, where Angel-hands may sweep,
Another veil withdrawn from Nature's crowned, Celestial Mysteries deep!
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In these smooth untroubled days, where now a breathless Quiet reigns,The ever watchful Priests of Nature, add to Wisdom's glorious gains,
High discoveries walk on every wind, with thousand tongues they talk,
Bright they smile from every Sunbeam, bloom from every flowering stalk.
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Yet once more I turn to thee, Fair Dome—to thee once more I turn,Thou that seem'st in this clear morning-light, to breathe and quake and burn,
While the dizzying cheers of thousands in a rushing tempest rise,
Yet they hardly pierce so high as thou,—Bright Dweller near the skies!—
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This Great Palace needs no pictured pride to decorate its Halls,The undimm'd Sun pours down his living light, to steep in pomp the Walls,
Moonlight and Starlight, Rainbows, Storms, and your rosy Clouds,—fair skies,—
Still shall gild them with their wand'ring shows, and their thousand-varying dyes.
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Yea!—Proud Nature well is mirrored, on thy wonderous wide expanse,E'en as on a Lake of Beauty, shown, where'er the eye may glance,
Dome! The Sun thou art!—Thou art the Stars!—the arch Splendour of the night,
When she pours her flood of argentry—a Paradise of Light.
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Since each Sunbeam there with seven-fold strength and seven-fold, radiance streams,Rich as some brave carkanet of gems,—its bickering lustre gleams,
And how lovingly the blue sky leans, above thee with the pride
Of its myriad-chequered aspects, while, all hours in beauty glide.
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Thee, that grand, Celestial Pageantry, bright dome, shall well adorn,Round thee, flushed with change of glory proud, shall float the Noon and Morn,
And deep purple Nights with all the pomp, the Firmaments display,
When they heave ablaze, with stars, shall there reflect their dread array.
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Still glimpsed there shall shine the first faint rays of dawn, with glimmering smile,Glassed o'er this starry-brightening roof, shower'd down fast through arch and aisle,
Thus, this blazing dome—ye still will steep in kindling splendours fair,
Celestial Pageantries of Heaven!—of the cloud-land, and the air;
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Fast poured through this lucid structure, glow those splendours, radiant Scene!While Creation in her Majesty, is mirrored in thy sheen,
And while loud thine organs peal and swell, and strongly Heavenward send
The echoing Mountain of their music proud, seem Earth and Heaven to blend.
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For the Mountain of their Music, vast and massive and sublime,With thy Mountain-crest of sheen and light, seems far on high to climb,
Till all shattered heaves the air with sound, with splendour and delight,
And with the outbursts deep of stormy joy, and the solemn music's might.
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Said I well on every side seems now full richly to increase,All the Power, Pride, Pomp, and Circumstance, of a most glorious Peace;
Is this a turning-point, a crisis in the fate of Humankind?
Let us grasp it with no strengthless hands, no faint and faultering mind.
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Work we must for Time and Fate,—shape, build, frame, form and fashion still,Powerful artists, powerful architects, nor know our own strange skill.
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May spring from our least acts to-day, when those deeds and days are past!
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As the old Gobelin tapestry-workers traced the o'er picturings, richly fraught,At the thick-flowered tissue's back, while each, his task unwitting wrought,—
As build the unconscious coral-labourers, that fresh mighty worlds have made
With their lives, their deaths,—men blindfold oft, work unknown schemes to aid.
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Launch this mighty ship of royal state on the awful Sea of Time,Whose broad surges swell far round it, with their grand and measured chime,
Yet they laugh in gladness where it shines, on that rolling hoary Deep,
Forgetting how to chafe and fret,—while in statelier march they sweep.
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No weak foundering Bark art thou! no gales thy strength shall maddening strain,No fierce winds sing shrilly in thy shrouds—no terrors clothe the Main.
And no ship-wreck-demons bid the air with threatening tumults lower,—
Titan ship! o'er Time's great thoroughfare, pass on in pride and power.
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Joy shall quicken round thee, like the play of summer lightnings bright,Or those gleams of phosphorescence that make Ocean one rich light,—
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And for thee shall Countless Stars outshine, and a thousand beacons burn.
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Aye? and glorious Understanding strong, shall watch still at thy helm,—Queenly Ship! No foundering bark, art thou! for raging seas to 'whelm,
Let thy fluttering streamer fearless float, so high, so proudly high,
That e'en the bright rays of the unrisen Sun, may gild it in the sky!
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England's Message bless'd of Peace and Love, Thou bear'st on thy proud way,Let this win a new Dominion—let this wield a widening sway,
Of old the thunder-shattered World on her great axis groaning turned,
Of old the mightier were Her children, the outraged Earth the heavier mourned.
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(Earth sees not Her Sons wreak now, on murtherous strifes their strength and might,Lo! how the iron roads stretch far, from mountain-height to mountain-height,
Lo! Worlds weighed, Seas joined, Streams spread or turned, Stars measured, ere they are seen,
Sun! Through thy gold-armour's joints, even probes their proud lance, piercing keen.)
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Shall not terror-bearing Navies pale their pride, Great Bark! near thee?Shamed, though 'minioned to their Mastery, rolls the fiercely-surging sea,
Shine! and proudly shine o'er Time's dark Waves, Thou bear'st Oh! thou winged Star,
Something nobler even than England's pride, than Her trident-truncheoned War.
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Bland fair-favouring airs and currents smooth, accompany the bark,Hence! Avaunt!—ye winds of angry storms, and tempests threat'ning dark,
Gracious Powers, shall go forth with it,—Truth and Faith and Hope sublime,
With deep breathings of the Eternity, they calm that Sea of Time.
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Guardian Powers!—they lay their hushing hands on the outspread rugged mane,Of the far-resounding thunder-storm, and the hurricanes they chain,
Like their vassals and familiars, these shall trembling track their way,
E'en those deep portentous voices, shall but sing of Hope to-day.
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And if storm could come, that storm 'twould yet, with pride unfaltering brave,Yea, since strengthening, strengthening still, those Powers, the undaunted Bark should save,
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Storms? They should but lift that glorious ship, to win new light of Heaven;
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Ha! 'Tis launched!—'Tis launched!—that mightiest ship of strength and state, Behold!And “Excelsior” burns inscribed in light, on its streamer's glorious fold!
Thousand Fleets of Royal Argosies, ne'er held such wealth as thou,
To whom all the Empires yield their dazzling pride, and 'trust their treasures now!
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Yet far mightier freight than those thou hast!—the Hopes of Humankind!—Glorious Visions for Futurity!—The immortal sway of mind,—
Conquests, Truths, and Mysteries,—Triumphs vast,—as yet scarce understood,
And treasured schemes, and garner'd dreams, all of glory and of good.
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Send Ye forth, the Imperial ship of state, on her broad and prosperous path,Yea! the mightiest freight that e'er was borne,—transcendently she hath!
Star-wreathed Victories, Crowned Supremacies,—of dread o'erpowering strength,
And Majestic Exultations,—and thy promise, Peace! at length!—
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Ho! 'Tis launched!—'Tis launched!—with lightning course, its proud port straight seems won!—Crystal Leviathan,—old Time, laughs out with thee in the Sun,
Blithe, Undying Spring shall round thee smile, and play as first She play'd,
In thine own unchanged resplendence, e'en triumphantly arrayed!
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Honour be to Labour!—raise once more, that high and fitting strain,Honour now to thee! Brave Labour!—raise that echoing shout again,
On the billowy Sea,—on th' outstretched plain—beneath the forest's bough,
Hail! In town, or desert, mart or mine,—honour to labour, now!
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Hail! All Salutations, Labour,—Health and wealth and Praise to thee,Oh! how rightly art thou glorified, 'midst the Gallant and the Free,
But thou in thy mid-triumph join, in another mightier strain,
Hush—Hush! and hearken to that sound, like the storm-voice of the main.
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“Hallelujah!—Hallelujah!” Oh! most meet and hallowed close,To the righteous efforts of the day,—breathing Heaven's own grand repose—
“Hallelujah!” hush'd be cannon-shock, and tromp and festal bell,
Hallelujah! Sound with thund'rous burst,—Hallelujah! sound and swell!
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Religion's Universal thoughts, bind all in brother-bonds more dear,Music's Universal language speaks to the Universal ear,
With deep labyrinthine lengthenings, th' Organ's lingering tones are taught,
Hovering slow, to glean for Heaven rich freights, of Earth's crowned spirits of Thought.
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Like the haunting, mystic music, heard on Pascagoula's shores,Still these die in murmuring strains,—still faint, each farewell, faultering pours,
But in resurrection of rich Thoughts, choired Hopes, and sweet-voiced Dreams,
Yet these tones once more shall live where sound, deep Memory's Echoing streams.
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Hallelujah! Hallelujah!—Mightiest!—Holiest!—first and best,Thus before Thy throne we lay all gifts, wherewith Thy grace hath bless'd,
All wherewith thou'st bless'd our hopes, Great King!—and in boundless mercy given,
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Lo! we bring them all to Heaven.
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Hallelujah!—for whate'er Thy hand all-bounteous, still may pour,On Our much-loved Country and the World,—thanksgivings more and more!
May we lay those gifts before Thy throne, who all in grace hast given,
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!—may we bring them all to Heaven.
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LINES TO AMERICA.
1
America! how nobly shines thy Fame,Still adding like thy Flag, fresh star to star,
Till Earth is echoing that triumphant name,
Sunned in that glowing shadow near and far!
For thee no pause, no dull inglorious rest,
In Fame's bright race, still proudly onwards press'd.
2
How dost thou scorn each bound, each barrier brave,Reversing thine own dread Niagara's course,
That falls,—as though its goal were but its grave,—
That ever falls, with downward-thundering force,
While thou still risest,—Eagle-like on high,
To track sublimer Sun-paths of the sky.
3
Thou risest!—like a World on Giant wings,From conquering Scheme to Scheme, from Height to Height,
While glad Humanity with thee upsprings,
To those new, grander Sun-paths of the Light;
The Great Discoverer gave Thee to Mankind,
For thee in turn, a thousand Worlds to find!
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4
New Worlds of Soul and Mind, of Act and ThoughtShall owe their bright unfolding, yet to thee,
By thee evolved,—and excellently wrought,
To crowned Perfection's loftiest harmony;
Speed on, in thy sublime Career August,—
To Man, and Thy Majestic Mission, just.
THE END.
| Honour to labour, a lay of 1851 | |