The poetical works of James Montgomery collected by himself |
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 | The poetical works of James Montgomery |  |
IV. PART IV.
The Wanderer relates the Circumstances attending the Death of Albert.
“Pledge the memory of the Brave,
And the Spirits of the dead;
Pledge the venerable Grave,
Valour's consecrated bed.
And the Spirits of the dead;
Pledge the venerable Grave,
Valour's consecrated bed.
Wanderer! cheer thy drooping soul;
This inspiring goblet take;
Drain the deep delicious bowl,
For thy martyr'd brethren's sake.”
This inspiring goblet take;
Drain the deep delicious bowl,
For thy martyr'd brethren's sake.”
Wand.
“Hail!—all hail! the Patriot's grave,
Valour's venerable bed:
Hail! the memory of the Brave;
Hail! the Spirits of the dead.
Valour's venerable bed:
Hail! the memory of the Brave;
Hail! the Spirits of the dead.
Time their triumphs shall proclaim,
And their rich reward be this,—
Immortality of fame,
Immortality of bliss.”
And their rich reward be this,—
Immortality of fame,
Immortality of bliss.”
Shep.
“On that melancholy plain,
In that conflict of despair,
How was noble Albert slain?
How didst thou, old Warrior, fare?”
Wand.
“In the agony of strife,
Where the heart of battle bled,
Where his country lost her life,
Glorious Albert bow'd his head.
Where the heart of battle bled,
Where his country lost her life,
Glorious Albert bow'd his head.
When our phalanx broke away,
And our stoutest soldiers fell,
—Where the dark rocks dimm'd the day,
Scowling o'er the deepest dell;
And our stoutest soldiers fell,
—Where the dark rocks dimm'd the day,
Scowling o'er the deepest dell;
There, like lions old in blood,
Lions rallying round their den,
Albert and his warriors stood:
We were few, but we were men.
Lions rallying round their den,
Albert and his warriors stood:
We were few, but we were men.
Breast to breast we fought the ground,
Arm to arm repell'd the foe:
Every motion was a wound,
And a death was every blow.
Arm to arm repell'd the foe:
Every motion was a wound,
And a death was every blow.
Thus the clouds of sunset beam
Warmer with expiring light;
Thus autumnal meteors stream
Redder through the darkening night.
Warmer with expiring light;
Thus autumnal meteors stream
Redder through the darkening night.
Miracles our champions wrought—
Who their dying deeds shall tell?
O, how gloriously they fought!
How triumphantly they fell!
Who their dying deeds shall tell?
O, how gloriously they fought!
How triumphantly they fell!
One by one gave up the ghost,
Slain, not conquer'd,—they died free.
Albert stood,—himself an host:
Last of all the Swiss was he.
Slain, not conquer'd,—they died free.
Albert stood,—himself an host:
Last of all the Swiss was he.
So, when night, with rising shade,
Climbs the Alps from steep to steep,
Till in hoary gloom array'd
All the giant-mountains sleep—
Climbs the Alps from steep to steep,
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All the giant-mountains sleep—
High in heaven their monarch stands
Bright and beauteous from afar,
Shining into distant lands
Like a new-created star.
Bright and beauteous from afar,
Shining into distant lands
Like a new-created star.
While I struggled through the fight,
Albert was my sword and shield;
Till strange horror quench'd my sight,
And I fainted on the field.
Albert was my sword and shield;
Till strange horror quench'd my sight,
And I fainted on the field.
Slow awakening from that trance,
When my soul return'd to day,
Vanish'd were the fiends of France,
—But in Albert's blood I lay.
When my soul return'd to day,
Vanish'd were the fiends of France,
—But in Albert's blood I lay.
Slain for me, his dearest breath
On my lips he did resign;
Slain for me, he snatch'd his death
From the blow that menaced mine.
On my lips he did resign;
Slain for me, he snatch'd his death
From the blow that menaced mine.
He had raised his dying head,
And was gazing on my face;
As I woke,—the spirit fled,
But I felt his last embrace.”
And was gazing on my face;
As I woke,—the spirit fled,
But I felt his last embrace.”
Shep.
“Man of suffering! such a tale
Would wring tears from marble eyes!”
Wand.
“Ha! my daughter's cheek grows pale!”
W.'s Wife.
“Help, O help! my daughter dies!”
Wand.
“Calm thy transports, O my wife!
Peace for these dear orphans' sake!”
W.'s Wife.
“O my joy, my hope, my life,
O my child, my child awake!”
Wand.
“God! O God, whose goodness gives;
God! whose wisdom takes away;
Spare my child!”
Shep.
—‘She lives, she lives!”
Wand.
“Lives?—my daughter, didst thou say?
God Almighty, on my knees,
In the dust will I adore
Thine unsearchable decrees;
—She was dead:—she lives once more!”
In the dust will I adore
Thine unsearchable decrees;
—She was dead:—she lives once more!”
W.'s Dtr.
“When poor Albert died, no prayer
Call'd him back to hated life:
O that I had perish'd there,
Not his widow, but his wife!”
Wand.
“Dare my daughter thus repine?
Albert! answer from above;
Tell me,—are these infants thine,
Whom their mother does not love?”
W.'s Dtr.
“Does not love!—my father, hear!
Hear me, or my heart will break:
Dear is life, but only dear
For my parents', children's sake.
Hear me, or my heart will break:
Dear is life, but only dear
For my parents', children's sake.
Bow'd to Heaven's mysterious will,
I am worthy yet of you;
Yes!—I am a mother still,
Though I feel a widow too.”
I am worthy yet of you;
Yes!—I am a mother still,
Though I feel a widow too.”
Wand.
“Mother, Widow, Mourner, all,
All kind names in one,—my child;
On thy faithful neck I fall;
Kiss me,—are we reconciled?”
W.'s Dtr.
“Yes, to Albert I appeal:—
Albert, answer from above,
That my father's breast may feel
All his daughter's heart of love.”
Shep.'s Wife.
“Faint and way-worn as they be
With the day's long journey, Sire,
Let thy pilgrim family
Now with me to rest retire.”
Wand.
“Yes, the hour invites to sleep;
Till the morrow we must part:
—Nay, my daughter, do not weep,
Do not weep and break my heart.
Till the morrow we must part:
—Nay, my daughter, do not weep,
Do not weep and break my heart.
Sorrow-soothing sweet repose
On your peaceful pillows light;
Angel-hands your eyelids close;
Dream of Paradise to-night.”
On your peaceful pillows light;
Angel-hands your eyelids close;
Dream of Paradise to-night.”
| The poetical works of James Montgomery | |