The Two Brothers, and other poems By Edward Henry Bickersteth |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
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CÆSAR'S INVASION OF BRITAIN. |
 | The Two Brothers, and other poems |  |
293
CÆSAR'S INVASION OF BRITAIN.
“His ego nec metas rerum, nec tempora pono:
Imperium sine fine dedi.”
Imperium sine fine dedi.”
Hail, solitary Rome: amid the tombs
Of ages, and the monuments that lie
Strewn far o'er the wild howling waste of time,
Thyself by cloud and tempest not unscathed,
Thou risest proudly eminent: of gods
And godlike heroes thou the haunt and home:
Nurse thou of kingliest spirits: who vouchsafed
Few words but deathless deeds; who scoff'd to write
Their records on the perishable scrolls
Of man, fast fading, likest to the beams
The sun imprints upon the transient clouds
Of evening; but with conquest's iron pen,
The world their tablet, carved that history out
On Eastern coasts and Western, South and North,
On trackless seas, and lands long lost in night,
On wrecks of empires and on hearts of men.
Strange, awful characters! which dark decay
Hath not as yet effaced, nor chance, nor change,
Nor storm, nor ruin, nor the tide of years,
Though ever chafing o'er them. Ne'er before
Saw earth such gloomy strength, nor ever since
Its like hath witness'd:—the last awful form
Of human might, in dimmest lineaments
By God foreshadow'd: warriors they, who reck'd
Of nothing, or of God or man, save strength.
And they were strong, strong-hearted, strong in arms.
Earth stood astonied at the sight. No lapse,
No break, no faltering in the dreadful march
Of those stern iron conquerors. On they strode,
Like men of fate, trampling beneath their feet
All other names, all other destinies,
Like dust before them. Throned on her seven hills
Rome, inaccessible herself, beheld
Her sons go forth to battle, and her glory
Quenching all meaner lights, and scattering far
The darkness of unnumber'd years: as when
The sun, at his Almighty Maker's word,
First in the everlasting vault of heaven
Hung pendulous, and from before him drove
The waves of Chaos, and tempestuous night,
Rolling in billowy surges ever back,
Back to their own abysmal shoreless void,
From his celestial presence. Time roll'd on,
And still with time thy glory brighten'd, still
Thine empire grew with time. The nations saw,
And trembled; and the silence of thy might
Seem'd to their ears oppressive eloquence
That none might interrupt: when thou didst speak,
Thy voice of thunder shook the startled world,
With lightning gleams of steel accompanied,
And flashes of swift vengeance. Awfully
Peace brooded once more over weary lands,
And weary hearts too smiled. But round thy skirts,
Clinging like night, dark masses of dark clouds
Hung yet, and mantled in their giant folds
The vast Unknown beyond, though voices thence
Came sometime, dimly muttering wars and woe.
Of ages, and the monuments that lie
Strewn far o'er the wild howling waste of time,
Thyself by cloud and tempest not unscathed,
Thou risest proudly eminent: of gods
And godlike heroes thou the haunt and home:
Nurse thou of kingliest spirits: who vouchsafed
Few words but deathless deeds; who scoff'd to write
Their records on the perishable scrolls
Of man, fast fading, likest to the beams
The sun imprints upon the transient clouds
Of evening; but with conquest's iron pen,
The world their tablet, carved that history out
294
On trackless seas, and lands long lost in night,
On wrecks of empires and on hearts of men.
Strange, awful characters! which dark decay
Hath not as yet effaced, nor chance, nor change,
Nor storm, nor ruin, nor the tide of years,
Though ever chafing o'er them. Ne'er before
Saw earth such gloomy strength, nor ever since
Its like hath witness'd:—the last awful form
Of human might, in dimmest lineaments
By God foreshadow'd: warriors they, who reck'd
Of nothing, or of God or man, save strength.
And they were strong, strong-hearted, strong in arms.
Earth stood astonied at the sight. No lapse,
No break, no faltering in the dreadful march
Of those stern iron conquerors. On they strode,
Like men of fate, trampling beneath their feet
All other names, all other destinies,
295
Rome, inaccessible herself, beheld
Her sons go forth to battle, and her glory
Quenching all meaner lights, and scattering far
The darkness of unnumber'd years: as when
The sun, at his Almighty Maker's word,
First in the everlasting vault of heaven
Hung pendulous, and from before him drove
The waves of Chaos, and tempestuous night,
Rolling in billowy surges ever back,
Back to their own abysmal shoreless void,
From his celestial presence. Time roll'd on,
And still with time thy glory brighten'd, still
Thine empire grew with time. The nations saw,
And trembled; and the silence of thy might
Seem'd to their ears oppressive eloquence
That none might interrupt: when thou didst speak,
Thy voice of thunder shook the startled world,
With lightning gleams of steel accompanied,
And flashes of swift vengeance. Awfully
Peace brooded once more over weary lands,
And weary hearts too smiled. But round thy skirts,
296
Hung yet, and mantled in their giant folds
The vast Unknown beyond, though voices thence
Came sometime, dimly muttering wars and woe.
Such was the gloom that hung around thy shores,
Albion, and shrouded from the spoiler's eye
Thy forests, and far mountains, and green vales,
And rocky fells, and rivers fleet and free:—
They knew thee not how beautiful: when known,
Dark desolation, like a haggard dream,
Stole o'er the sunshine of thy countenance,
And scared thy smiles, and left thee pale and wan,
A widow and a captive. Ah, not thus
Whilom thy children chased their forest prey,
Or roam'd the morning hills, by streams that spake
Of light and freedom, to the fetterless winds
Responsive: or at eventide not thus
Were wont to linger on thy cliffs, where last
The golden sunshine slumber'd, till the stars
Came forth, upon their vigils dawning: bright
They seem'd as spirit-eyes and pure, wherewith
Thy Druid bards enlink'd all earthly things
Aforetime, by wild legendary lore:
Not thus the reckless warrior grasp'd his spear,
Or freeman spake to freeman. But when thou
Didst tremble, it was not beneath the eye
Of tyrant man; but at those awful powers,
Who ever, as thy fabling prophets sung,
Dwelt, mystery-clad, in mountain, vale, or cloud,
Or ocean pathway, tabernacling there
As in meet home, whose voices might be heard,
Whose foot-prints traced by wrecks o'er sea and land,
What time the thunders roll'd, or lightnings gleam'd.
Albion, and shrouded from the spoiler's eye
Thy forests, and far mountains, and green vales,
And rocky fells, and rivers fleet and free:—
They knew thee not how beautiful: when known,
Dark desolation, like a haggard dream,
Stole o'er the sunshine of thy countenance,
And scared thy smiles, and left thee pale and wan,
A widow and a captive. Ah, not thus
Whilom thy children chased their forest prey,
Or roam'd the morning hills, by streams that spake
Of light and freedom, to the fetterless winds
Responsive: or at eventide not thus
Were wont to linger on thy cliffs, where last
The golden sunshine slumber'd, till the stars
Came forth, upon their vigils dawning: bright
They seem'd as spirit-eyes and pure, wherewith
297
Aforetime, by wild legendary lore:
Not thus the reckless warrior grasp'd his spear,
Or freeman spake to freeman. But when thou
Didst tremble, it was not beneath the eye
Of tyrant man; but at those awful powers,
Who ever, as thy fabling prophets sung,
Dwelt, mystery-clad, in mountain, vale, or cloud,
Or ocean pathway, tabernacling there
As in meet home, whose voices might be heard,
Whose foot-prints traced by wrecks o'er sea and land,
What time the thunders roll'd, or lightnings gleam'd.
Those mystic days were number'd. There was one
Who long had trodden on the earth, as treads
The eagle on the gory plain it spurns,
Whose kingly heart was gasping for great deeds,
Deeds that his right hand taught him, and whose eye
Drank from the nightly stars heroic thoughts,
And dreams of high achievement. Warrior king!
Thy mother city knew thee when a child,
And proudly knew thee, nursing up thy soul
For glory: the snow-crested Apennines,
The Alps far mingling with the clouds and skies,
With their clear glaciers gleaming to the moon,
Knew thee: Germania's forests knew thee: Gaul,
Vine-clad, and water'd by a thousand streams,
Maugre her fierce defenders, knew thee well,
Great Cæsar, weeping that she conld not find
Thy peer: and now upon her vanquish'd shores
Deep musing, having march'd with lion springs
From conquest on to conquest, thou dost cast
Long glances o'er the twilight ocean waves
Upon that land of mystery, that lies
Far in the blue horizon dimly seen.
Who long had trodden on the earth, as treads
The eagle on the gory plain it spurns,
Whose kingly heart was gasping for great deeds,
Deeds that his right hand taught him, and whose eye
Drank from the nightly stars heroic thoughts,
And dreams of high achievement. Warrior king!
Thy mother city knew thee when a child,
And proudly knew thee, nursing up thy soul
298
The Alps far mingling with the clouds and skies,
With their clear glaciers gleaming to the moon,
Knew thee: Germania's forests knew thee: Gaul,
Vine-clad, and water'd by a thousand streams,
Maugre her fierce defenders, knew thee well,
Great Cæsar, weeping that she conld not find
Thy peer: and now upon her vanquish'd shores
Deep musing, having march'd with lion springs
From conquest on to conquest, thou dost cast
Long glances o'er the twilight ocean waves
Upon that land of mystery, that lies
Far in the blue horizon dimly seen.
Some talk'd of merchandise, and pearls, and wealth;
Of trophies and of triumphs some; and some
Of battle spoils and blue-eyed maidens fair
To grace their homes far-distant, thoughts whereof
Clung to their rugged hearts; a new strange world,
Some whisper'd, lay before their path, whose sky
At dead of night was flush'd with gorgeous flames
And rushing meteors, and whose only bound
Was everlasting ice;—enough for thee,
It knew not Rome's eternal name or thine;
And it shall know them straightway, though it learn
Mid dying throes, and though thou teach thyself.
Of trophies and of triumphs some; and some
Of battle spoils and blue-eyed maidens fair
To grace their homes far-distant, thoughts whereof
Clung to their rugged hearts; a new strange world,
Some whisper'd, lay before their path, whose sky
At dead of night was flush'd with gorgeous flames
And rushing meteors, and whose only bound
299
It knew not Rome's eternal name or thine;
And it shall know them straightway, though it learn
Mid dying throes, and though thou teach thyself.
Morn's silver twilight hung above the waves:
Seaward the gales blew freshly: far aloft
Clouds swiftly track'd the sky: one single star
Still linger'd in the dawning east, as if
To steal a glance at day, but soon withdrew;
The lordly sun came forth; and all was life
And in the harbour tumult: crowded there
Twice forty gallant ships, and on their decks
Brave hearts, that burn'd to vie with Britain's sons
In battle. Over them their streamers waved
That way themselves would go; nor long they paused
Expectant: thrice the brazen trumpet blown,
Each galley loosed her moorings: one by one
Stately they weigh'd beneath the freshening wind,
And the free waters bare them swiftly on
To sound of martial notes, and aching eyes
Gazed after that brave fleet the livelong day.
Seaward the gales blew freshly: far aloft
Clouds swiftly track'd the sky: one single star
Still linger'd in the dawning east, as if
To steal a glance at day, but soon withdrew;
The lordly sun came forth; and all was life
And in the harbour tumult: crowded there
Twice forty gallant ships, and on their decks
Brave hearts, that burn'd to vie with Britain's sons
In battle. Over them their streamers waved
That way themselves would go; nor long they paused
Expectant: thrice the brazen trumpet blown,
Each galley loosed her moorings: one by one
Stately they weigh'd beneath the freshening wind,
And the free waters bare them swiftly on
To sound of martial notes, and aching eyes
Gazed after that brave fleet the livelong day.
300
And deem ye that an easy booty lies
Before your bloodless arms? or they that throng
Their isle's rock-ramparts, think ye they have come
With open arms to greet ye? But their chief,
First on the foremost galley, saw their ranks,
Death boding, and beheld the white cliffs crown'd
With shields and bristling spears, and steeds of war,
And chariots numberless. Along the coast
Swiftly they sail'd, if haply crags less stern
Might yield them fairer landing, swift the while
The Britons streaming o'er the rocks and hills
Kept pace beside, and vaunted death should greet
The tyrant and his legions, ere their foot
Polluted freedom's soil. Then rose the din
Of battle: in the waves midway they met
Rome's proudest warriors, and the foaming surge
Dash'd crimson-dyed: and scythe-arm'd chariots swept
The shore in unresisted might, and darts
Fell ever in swift tempest: once again
In proud derision Britain shook her spear,
And bade them take, an if it liked them well,
Such iron welcome to her freeborn hills.
And Rome a moment quail'd; but one who grasp'd
An eagle in his left hand, in his right
A sword, cried, “Romans, down into the waves:
“On! or betray our eagle to the foe;
“I'll on for Rome and Cæsar!” Scarce he spoke,
And from the prow leapt fearless, and straightway
His comrades round him throng'd, and the fierce fight
Grew fiercer 'mid the angry tide: but still
The star of Rome rode prevalent in heaven,
And Britain's sons, borne backward by the host
Of spears, and gnashing with remorse and pride,
Fell from that iron phalanx, and Rome's chief
Stood conqueror on Britannia's beetling cliffs.
Before your bloodless arms? or they that throng
Their isle's rock-ramparts, think ye they have come
With open arms to greet ye? But their chief,
First on the foremost galley, saw their ranks,
Death boding, and beheld the white cliffs crown'd
With shields and bristling spears, and steeds of war,
And chariots numberless. Along the coast
Swiftly they sail'd, if haply crags less stern
Might yield them fairer landing, swift the while
The Britons streaming o'er the rocks and hills
Kept pace beside, and vaunted death should greet
The tyrant and his legions, ere their foot
Polluted freedom's soil. Then rose the din
Of battle: in the waves midway they met
Rome's proudest warriors, and the foaming surge
Dash'd crimson-dyed: and scythe-arm'd chariots swept
The shore in unresisted might, and darts
Fell ever in swift tempest: once again
In proud derision Britain shook her spear,
And bade them take, an if it liked them well,
301
And Rome a moment quail'd; but one who grasp'd
An eagle in his left hand, in his right
A sword, cried, “Romans, down into the waves:
“On! or betray our eagle to the foe;
“I'll on for Rome and Cæsar!” Scarce he spoke,
And from the prow leapt fearless, and straightway
His comrades round him throng'd, and the fierce fight
Grew fiercer 'mid the angry tide: but still
The star of Rome rode prevalent in heaven,
And Britain's sons, borne backward by the host
Of spears, and gnashing with remorse and pride,
Fell from that iron phalanx, and Rome's chief
Stood conqueror on Britannia's beetling cliffs.
Not thus shall Albion yield thee her fair fields,
Great Julius, and not thus beneath thy rod
Affrighted bow and tremble; nor is hers
The arena thou must tread to bind the crown
Around thy warrior temples, and ascend
Thine envious throne: a few brief hours, and lo!
Heaven's tempests, wild and baleful, thy frail fleet
Have shatter'd, and in haste across the sea
Thine armies seek repose. What though ere long
With happier omen, and with prouder host,
The subject waters bare thee hitherwards
Once more? What though, through battle and through storm,
And rivers running blood, and harvest fields
Stain'd with the gore of thousands, thou didst press
On to the heart of Britain? what if there
Her chieftains bow'd a moment to thy rod,
And freedom taught their free hearts slavish ways?
'Twas but a moment: Heaven had other deeds
For thee to do, and other destinies
Loom'd dimly on the future's clouded skirts
Before thine eagle eye. Nor didst thou prove
A recreant. Fare thee, kingly warrior, well.
Go grasp thy regal sceptre, go ascend
Thy world-wide throne! to other hands than thine,
And years yet labouring in the future's womb,
'Tis given to bow beneath a Roman yoke
Free Albion's neck, and lead her captive kings
In fetters, and pollute her smiling homes
With foulest wrong and insult: bitterness
All hearts possessing: till her warrior chiefs
Weep tears of blood, her maidens tears of shame,
And Britain writhes beneath the iron scourge
Of conquest.
Great Julius, and not thus beneath thy rod
Affrighted bow and tremble; nor is hers
302
Around thy warrior temples, and ascend
Thine envious throne: a few brief hours, and lo!
Heaven's tempests, wild and baleful, thy frail fleet
Have shatter'd, and in haste across the sea
Thine armies seek repose. What though ere long
With happier omen, and with prouder host,
The subject waters bare thee hitherwards
Once more? What though, through battle and through storm,
And rivers running blood, and harvest fields
Stain'd with the gore of thousands, thou didst press
On to the heart of Britain? what if there
Her chieftains bow'd a moment to thy rod,
And freedom taught their free hearts slavish ways?
'Twas but a moment: Heaven had other deeds
For thee to do, and other destinies
Loom'd dimly on the future's clouded skirts
Before thine eagle eye. Nor didst thou prove
A recreant. Fare thee, kingly warrior, well.
Go grasp thy regal sceptre, go ascend
Thy world-wide throne! to other hands than thine,
303
'Tis given to bow beneath a Roman yoke
Free Albion's neck, and lead her captive kings
In fetters, and pollute her smiling homes
With foulest wrong and insult: bitterness
All hearts possessing: till her warrior chiefs
Weep tears of blood, her maidens tears of shame,
And Britain writhes beneath the iron scourge
Of conquest.
So in after days there rush'd
Rude whirlwind storms of war and death and woe
O'er that fair isle, and shatter'd into dust
The blood-built fabrics of an idol faith,
Whereat dark centuries had labour'd: soon
They fell before those fierce avenging storms,
Yet storms, that in their dark and gloomy folds
Bare germs of happier days, and dawning lights
Of love and mercy; as the lightning-gleams
Course not along the star-paved vault of heaven,
But from the earth-born thunder-clouds flash forth
In beauty and resplendence. Soon from thee,
My native isle, their stern behest fulfill'd
The clouds of wrath and tempest roll'd away
Dream-like; and following on their wasted track
Pure healing sunshine, bountiful in good,
Stole o'er thy sorrowing landscapes; and ere long
A Christian Church on Albion's shores arose,
And pointed to the skies, and call'd the stars
To witness, that in tempest, as in calm,
Heaven works its own eternal destiny.
Rude whirlwind storms of war and death and woe
O'er that fair isle, and shatter'd into dust
The blood-built fabrics of an idol faith,
Whereat dark centuries had labour'd: soon
They fell before those fierce avenging storms,
Yet storms, that in their dark and gloomy folds
Bare germs of happier days, and dawning lights
Of love and mercy; as the lightning-gleams
Course not along the star-paved vault of heaven,
But from the earth-born thunder-clouds flash forth
In beauty and resplendence. Soon from thee,
304
The clouds of wrath and tempest roll'd away
Dream-like; and following on their wasted track
Pure healing sunshine, bountiful in good,
Stole o'er thy sorrowing landscapes; and ere long
A Christian Church on Albion's shores arose,
And pointed to the skies, and call'd the stars
To witness, that in tempest, as in calm,
Heaven works its own eternal destiny.
Trinity College, 1846.
| The Two Brothers, and other poems | |