Malvern Hills with Minor Poems, and Essays. By Joseph Cottle. Fourth Edition |
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THE WARNING.
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 | Malvern Hills |  |
THE WARNING.
LHYRARCH, THE CAMBRIAN BARD'S ADDRESS TO THE ENGLISH CHIEFTAIN, EARL TALBOT, WHEN, SCATTERING DESTRUCTION AROUND HIM, HE HAD PENETRATED TO THE SACRED GROVES OF MONA.
WHENCE, O Warriors, clad in mail,
Thus our happy land assail?
Have we, witless, done you wrong?
Do you war with harp and song?
Or, have those who are no more,
Prostrate on the bloody shore,
Call'd you from your homes afar,
Thus to drive Destruction's car?
We are few, and peaceful, here,
And our hearths and homes are dear!
Thus our happy land assail?
Have we, witless, done you wrong?
Do you war with harp and song?
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Prostrate on the bloody shore,
Call'd you from your homes afar,
Thus to drive Destruction's car?
We are few, and peaceful, here,
And our hearths and homes are dear!
Know, O Warriors! clad in mail,
Where the stars through ether sail,
There is One, who looks below,
Greater than our mightiest foe!—
There is One, whom you should fear,
Wielding an Almighty spear!
Should you traverse Mona more,
Tracking thus your path with gore,
List, O Warriors, clad in mail!
Hear the threat, which cannot fail!
He who bids the thunders roll—
He whose lightnings scare the soul,
He, for Mona's children slain,
Will blast you with his fierce disdain.
Where the stars through ether sail,
There is One, who looks below,
Greater than our mightiest foe!—
There is One, whom you should fear,
Wielding an Almighty spear!
Should you traverse Mona more,
Tracking thus your path with gore,
List, O Warriors, clad in mail!
Hear the threat, which cannot fail!
He who bids the thunders roll—
He whose lightnings scare the soul,
He, for Mona's children slain,
Will blast you with his fierce disdain.
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You are men, though clad in mail;
Shall the voice of mercy fail?
Have you not, on Albion's shore,
Whom you prize, and whom adore?
Have you not, in order fair,
Father, mother, brother, there?
Do you not, while far you roam,
Oft, turning, linger round your home,
And homage pay, with bended knees,
To Nature's tender charities?
Do not your rosy offspring rise,
Nightly to a father's eyes?
By the love to these you bear,
Mona's happy children spare!
Shall the voice of mercy fail?
Have you not, on Albion's shore,
Whom you prize, and whom adore?
Have you not, in order fair,
Father, mother, brother, there?
Do you not, while far you roam,
Oft, turning, linger round your home,
And homage pay, with bended knees,
To Nature's tender charities?
Do not your rosy offspring rise,
Nightly to a father's eyes?
By the love to these you bear,
Mona's happy children spare!
I see the tiger in your eye,
Slay me! I disdain to fly!
Did I talk, O Men! to you
Of peaceful joys you never knew?—
With sweet words that move the tear,
Father, mother, brother, dear;
Did I hope to make you feel,
Whose blood is ice, whose hearts are steel?
Hence! The milder word I scorn!
Demons, hence, of darkness born!
Lift once more the bloody spear!
See my breast! O plunge it here!
Infuriate, I will head the train,
The ghosts of thousands you have slain:
Swords of proof, and glittering mail,
What, O Men, shall then avail?
Our happiness shall be delay'd
To meet you in the land of shade!”
Slay me! I disdain to fly!
Did I talk, O Men! to you
Of peaceful joys you never knew?—
With sweet words that move the tear,
Father, mother, brother, dear;
Did I hope to make you feel,
Whose blood is ice, whose hearts are steel?
Hence! The milder word I scorn!
Demons, hence, of darkness born!
Lift once more the bloody spear!
See my breast! O plunge it here!
Infuriate, I will head the train,
The ghosts of thousands you have slain:
Swords of proof, and glittering mail,
What, O Men, shall then avail?
Our happiness shall be delay'd
To meet you in the land of shade!”
| Malvern Hills | |