 | Miscellaneous Poems |  |
108
LINES
WRITTEN AT LAYER-MARNEY TOWER, ESSEX.
“Sic fautor Veterum.”
Horat. Ep. ii. 1. 23.
Horat. Ep. ii. 1. 23.
“A ruin'd Tower,” . . . in its decay,
It speaks of glories pass'd away;
All the builder's fancies quaint,
In carv'd device of scroll or saint,
Shield or scutcheon, now are seen
Mouldering on the mossy green;
All that bore a glorious birth,
Above the common things of earth,
Are fallen now. Alas! that power
Hath vanish'd from the ancient tower!
A spell is on it, and it wears
A tender sadness in its years;
With what a pensive brow it looks
On the fields, and on the brooks,
As it would recall its prime,
By gathering thoughts from elder time;
And that calm river too is seen,
Flowing beneath its margin green,
Ever as it flowed of yore,
Mid oaken copse, and forest hoar;
And here and there, on either side,
Coves where the abbot's barge might glide,
Gaining St. Osyth with the tide.
It speaks of glories pass'd away;
All the builder's fancies quaint,
In carv'd device of scroll or saint,
Shield or scutcheon, now are seen
Mouldering on the mossy green;
All that bore a glorious birth,
Above the common things of earth,
Are fallen now. Alas! that power
Hath vanish'd from the ancient tower!
A spell is on it, and it wears
A tender sadness in its years;
109
On the fields, and on the brooks,
As it would recall its prime,
By gathering thoughts from elder time;
And that calm river too is seen,
Flowing beneath its margin green,
Ever as it flowed of yore,
Mid oaken copse, and forest hoar;
And here and there, on either side,
Coves where the abbot's barge might glide,
Gaining St. Osyth with the tide.
Beside its chestnut-shaded screen,
Where yon grey chapel-roof is seen,
There the Lords of Marney lie,
Beneath their stately canopy.
There they slumber side by side,
Dreaming of their ancient pride,
When in old ancestral power
They dwelt within that stately tower.
All was theirs,—both far and near,
Herd and flock, and fallow-deer,
And what beside the forests old
Within their leafy coverts hold,
When with sounding bugle they,
And hound and falcon, in array,
Were chasing down the summer day.
All the wealth of hill and dale,
Far as Mersey's distant vale,
Tower, keep, and hamlet, where the name
Of Darcy still survives in fame,
All was theirs—where eye could range
Its moving flight o'er farm and grange;
Each inland weir, and stream-fed mill,
Owned no other master's will;
Nor harbour could the ocean boast,
But theirs,—along its subject coast.
Where yon grey chapel-roof is seen,
There the Lords of Marney lie,
Beneath their stately canopy.
There they slumber side by side,
Dreaming of their ancient pride,
When in old ancestral power
They dwelt within that stately tower.
All was theirs,—both far and near,
Herd and flock, and fallow-deer,
And what beside the forests old
Within their leafy coverts hold,
110
And hound and falcon, in array,
Were chasing down the summer day.
All the wealth of hill and dale,
Far as Mersey's distant vale,
Tower, keep, and hamlet, where the name
Of Darcy still survives in fame,
All was theirs—where eye could range
Its moving flight o'er farm and grange;
Each inland weir, and stream-fed mill,
Owned no other master's will;
Nor harbour could the ocean boast,
But theirs,—along its subject coast.
So lived they in their ancient state,
As became the rich and great.
With the Lord of Marney's bread,
Old and young alike were fed;
And each maiden had a shower
Of blushing gifts—her maiden dower.
So lived they, as brave men should do,
To their high achievements true,
From their wealthy stores to all,
Letting bounties round them fall;
Theirs was the aged widow's bread,
By them the orphan child was fed;
And what if something for delight
Was set apart, as if of right?
May had her honours—Winter bore
A garland on his tresses hoar;
And who would blame the poppy flower
That mix'd with Autumn's golden dower?
Then wide was spread the ancient hoard,
The wine-cup and the wassail board,
With soaring hawk, and bloodhound's bay,
Laughter and voices light—“'Tis May
Come to us in her green array.”
As became the rich and great.
With the Lord of Marney's bread,
Old and young alike were fed;
And each maiden had a shower
Of blushing gifts—her maiden dower.
So lived they, as brave men should do,
To their high achievements true,
From their wealthy stores to all,
Letting bounties round them fall;
111
By them the orphan child was fed;
And what if something for delight
Was set apart, as if of right?
May had her honours—Winter bore
A garland on his tresses hoar;
And who would blame the poppy flower
That mix'd with Autumn's golden dower?
Then wide was spread the ancient hoard,
The wine-cup and the wassail board,
With soaring hawk, and bloodhound's bay,
Laughter and voices light—“'Tis May
Come to us in her green array.”
Then old and young with blessings meet,
Came forth, each one, their lord to greet,
While from many a kerchief'd cheek,
The blushing rose its thanks would speak;
And all along the village green
(That year young Edith was the Queen)
May games and merry masques were seen.
Through the soft and summer night,
The casements gleam'd with lustre bright;
From each one, a star of flame,
Sounds of lute and cittern came;
And in the moonlight, watching late,
For one expected at the gate,
A Lady at her lattice sate.
Came forth, each one, their lord to greet,
While from many a kerchief'd cheek,
The blushing rose its thanks would speak;
And all along the village green
(That year young Edith was the Queen)
May games and merry masques were seen.
Through the soft and summer night,
The casements gleam'd with lustre bright;
From each one, a star of flame,
112
And in the moonlight, watching late,
For one expected at the gate,
A Lady at her lattice sate.
Alas! and must these glories range
Through a dark and sunless change,
Drifting ever down,—the earth
Lose the blessings of her birth,
And her golden moments haste
To a cold and dreary waste?
All the sympathies that ran
'Twixt Nature and the heart of man,
All faithful ties and thoughts be rent;
Each gentle purpose and intent
Chang'd to tyrannous control;
Impatient will, that would unroll
The future, and for empire bright,
Not borrow'd of supernal light.
Through a dark and sunless change,
Drifting ever down,—the earth
Lose the blessings of her birth,
And her golden moments haste
To a cold and dreary waste?
All the sympathies that ran
'Twixt Nature and the heart of man,
All faithful ties and thoughts be rent;
Each gentle purpose and intent
Chang'd to tyrannous control;
Impatient will, that would unroll
The future, and for empire bright,
Not borrow'd of supernal light.
And see the subject Earth in pain,
Is groaning with an iron chain;
The river gods within their caves,
May look on their neglected waves,
And from her bed of pensive reed
Her timid urn the naiad feed;
Oh! awful change! that Nature still
Must work but at the human will,
Forego her rightful power, and be
A thing for use and mastery.
The earth shall yield her strength,—the ocean
Bend down in sullen awe his motion,
And shake his wreathed mane in scorn,
To be a captive thing forlorn;
E'en the wild unchartered wind
Links of a power unseen shall bind,
When high above the azure tides
Of air, the ark of conquest rides,
And the daring vessel braves
Against their will, the wrathful waves.
Is groaning with an iron chain;
The river gods within their caves,
May look on their neglected waves,
113
Her timid urn the naiad feed;
Oh! awful change! that Nature still
Must work but at the human will,
Forego her rightful power, and be
A thing for use and mastery.
The earth shall yield her strength,—the ocean
Bend down in sullen awe his motion,
And shake his wreathed mane in scorn,
To be a captive thing forlorn;
E'en the wild unchartered wind
Links of a power unseen shall bind,
When high above the azure tides
Of air, the ark of conquest rides,
And the daring vessel braves
Against their will, the wrathful waves.
Whence comes it?—for a potent spell
Is heard along each secret cell
Of Nature—calling to obey
The thraldom of tyrannic sway.
Oh! vain dominion, late obtained,
Oh! power by artful conquest gain'd,
Who will, may praise—and yet 'twere wrong
To greet thee with the muses' song;
An element in bondage, bent
Slave like, to work for man's intent,
Bearing with thee as a shroud,
The smould'ring fire, the lurid cloud;
Where erst the white-wing'd bark was seen
Gliding o'er the blue serene,
In beauty, like the Ocean Queen.
Rise then, ye ancient powers that sleep,
Forgotten in your caverns deep;
Rise, ocean winds! and let the waves
Be loosen'd from their angry caves,
Trampling in indignant scorn
The craft of human weakness born.
Let the subject realms obey
Once again their ancient sway,
The tall mast rear its regal head,
The sail its graceful bosom spread:
By cape or headland, let it go,
Opening wide its wings of snow,
And every wandering breeze be free,
To waft it o'er the pathless sea.
Then wake no more to scenes of pain,
Ye Lords of Marney's old domain;
With your beards upon your breast,
Lie like good men taking rest.
Is heard along each secret cell
Of Nature—calling to obey
The thraldom of tyrannic sway.
Oh! vain dominion, late obtained,
Oh! power by artful conquest gain'd,
Who will, may praise—and yet 'twere wrong
To greet thee with the muses' song;
114
Slave like, to work for man's intent,
Bearing with thee as a shroud,
The smould'ring fire, the lurid cloud;
Where erst the white-wing'd bark was seen
Gliding o'er the blue serene,
In beauty, like the Ocean Queen.
Rise then, ye ancient powers that sleep,
Forgotten in your caverns deep;
Rise, ocean winds! and let the waves
Be loosen'd from their angry caves,
Trampling in indignant scorn
The craft of human weakness born.
Let the subject realms obey
Once again their ancient sway,
The tall mast rear its regal head,
The sail its graceful bosom spread:
By cape or headland, let it go,
Opening wide its wings of snow,
And every wandering breeze be free,
To waft it o'er the pathless sea.
Then wake no more to scenes of pain,
Ye Lords of Marney's old domain;
With your beards upon your breast,
Lie like good men taking rest.
115
Ye have liv'd, while life could last,
In the glories of the past.
Wake not beside your stately tower,
Ruin'd by Time's relentless power;—
Lords of Marney's ancient race
Together sleeping face to face,
Wake not now to dreams of pain—
Time hath dropt his golden chain,
Chain of rightful power, that still
Held rule o'er man's submissive will;
Aimless as the winds that range
To the wild unfetter'd change;
Custom hath loos'd her gentle yoke,
Her willing bondage Duty broke:
So ill from ill doth ever flow,
The harvest comes in bitter woe,
And ere many a year shall flee,
Yon grey and ruin'd tower shall be,
Oh! thoughtless land, a type of thee—
Sad emblem of what once had been,
Like thee, and now no more is seen;
A shadow of an old and mighty sway,
That cover'd half the world,—then slowly pass'd away.
In the glories of the past.
Wake not beside your stately tower,
Ruin'd by Time's relentless power;—
Lords of Marney's ancient race
Together sleeping face to face,
Wake not now to dreams of pain—
Time hath dropt his golden chain,
Chain of rightful power, that still
Held rule o'er man's submissive will;
Aimless as the winds that range
To the wild unfetter'd change;
Custom hath loos'd her gentle yoke,
Her willing bondage Duty broke:
So ill from ill doth ever flow,
The harvest comes in bitter woe,
And ere many a year shall flee,
Yon grey and ruin'd tower shall be,
Oh! thoughtless land, a type of thee—
Sad emblem of what once had been,
Like thee, and now no more is seen;
A shadow of an old and mighty sway,
That cover'd half the world,—then slowly pass'd away.
“At some distance from the river Colne (which gives the name to Colchester), is Lair Marney, so called from the Lord Marney, to whom it belonged, and who, with some others of the name, lies interred in very fair tombs in the church there. St. Osyth was the chief seat of the Lords Darcy, styled Lords of Chich, and advanced to the dignity of Barons by Edward the Sixth.”—v. Camden's Britannia.
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