 | The Emperor's Vigil, and The Waves And The War |  |
The Waves and the War.
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I. The Baltic Fleet.
He would not let them rest
On the waters of the West,
Where they slumbered in their bays—those sons of England's might—
With their great white shadowy shrouds
Folded calm as brooding clouds,
Dreaming of old victories in the drowsy summer-light.
On the waters of the West,
Where they slumbered in their bays—those sons of England's might—
With their great white shadowy shrouds
Folded calm as brooding clouds,
Dreaming of old victories in the drowsy summer-light.
He would not let them rest,
Those war-ships of the West,
The Czar of sullen Muscovy in drunkenness of pride;
And they gather now and throng,
The beautiful and strong,
Like a fairy pageant floating for a pastime on the tide.
Those war-ships of the West,
The Czar of sullen Muscovy in drunkenness of pride;
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The beautiful and strong,
Like a fairy pageant floating for a pastime on the tide.
They toy and they play
With the waters on their way;
They tack and they veer, as if in sport upon the sea;
But evermore they write
In those furrows creamy-white,
Our messages of ruin to thine empire and to thee.
With the waters on their way;
They tack and they veer, as if in sport upon the sea;
But evermore they write
In those furrows creamy-white,
Our messages of ruin to thine empire and to thee.
The gentle ocean laughed
To the countless pleasure-craft,
That with music and with joyousness came dancing in delight;
And, as though 'twere a caress,
Round the mighty ships they press,
As you cheer a gallant charger ere it rushes to the fight.
To the countless pleasure-craft,
That with music and with joyousness came dancing in delight;
And, as though 'twere a caress,
Round the mighty ships they press,
As you cheer a gallant charger ere it rushes to the fight.
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But a sudden change was wrought,
For the mass a signal caught,
And feverish expectation hung lead-like on each breath;
Deep silence sank around,
And the crowds stood wonder-bound,
Till they scarcely felt the ocean pulsing heavily beneath.
For the mass a signal caught,
And feverish expectation hung lead-like on each breath;
Deep silence sank around,
And the crowds stood wonder-bound,
Till they scarcely felt the ocean pulsing heavily beneath.
Then o'er those myriads mute
Slow rolled the last salute;
A white cloud started upward, hiding ships, and sea, and sky;
And a thunder ebbed away
Over inland, shore and bay,
Forth flinging to the universe a nation's battle cry.
Slow rolled the last salute;
A white cloud started upward, hiding ships, and sea, and sky;
And a thunder ebbed away
Over inland, shore and bay,
Forth flinging to the universe a nation's battle cry.
The far hills throb around
With the wide o'erwhelming sound;
The waves are prostrate laid, like a solid glassy floor,
Then they crisp again and rear,
With pale foam, white as fear,
And shivering, in long moaning lines creep slowly to the shore.
With the wide o'erwhelming sound;
The waves are prostrate laid, like a solid glassy floor,
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With pale foam, white as fear,
And shivering, in long moaning lines creep slowly to the shore.
The thin cloud disappears
In a shower of sudden tears—
Or is it angels weeping o'er the thought of coming woes?—
And a prophet-hue of blood
Flits flickering o'er the flood,
And a sobbing and a sighing is heard around the bows.
In a shower of sudden tears—
Or is it angels weeping o'er the thought of coming woes?—
And a prophet-hue of blood
Flits flickering o'er the flood,
And a sobbing and a sighing is heard around the bows.
Then each one held his breath,
For he knew the voice of death;
A sense of solemn sorrow sank hushing far and wide;
And a vision dim of graves
'Mid lonely shores and waves,
And silent, hopeless evenings by a desolate fireside.
For he knew the voice of death;
A sense of solemn sorrow sank hushing far and wide;
And a vision dim of graves
'Mid lonely shores and waves,
And silent, hopeless evenings by a desolate fireside.
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But the graceful sails arose
Like a drift of mountain-snows,
And the steam-ship, like a war-horse, came trampling down the brine;
And hearts again beat fast
To see them as they passed—
The cavalry of ocean and the slow-paced sailing line.
Like a drift of mountain-snows,
And the steam-ship, like a war-horse, came trampling down the brine;
And hearts again beat fast
To see them as they passed—
The cavalry of ocean and the slow-paced sailing line.
'Twas thus we bade them go
To seek our country's foe;
Not in doubting or in fearing did the nation send them forth;
'Twas a people's holiday
To greet their brave array,
And a sound of joyous cheering went behind them to the North.
To seek our country's foe;
Not in doubting or in fearing did the nation send them forth;
'Twas a people's holiday
To greet their brave array,
And a sound of joyous cheering went behind them to the North.
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II. The Baltic.
There's a gateway vast in the northern seas,
Its piers are the rocks of granite,
Its rampart bold is the mountain old,
With the storms of heaven to man it.
Its piers are the rocks of granite,
Its rampart bold is the mountain old,
With the storms of heaven to man it.
Behind that ancient gateway high,
The waves of the North Sea breasting,
The Danish Isles on the Baltic lie,
Like knights on their blue shields resting.
The waves of the North Sea breasting,
The Danish Isles on the Baltic lie,
Like knights on their blue shields resting.
And all within through a circle wide
The azure tides are sleeping;
A gallant field for a tournay's pride,
Where monarchs the lists are keeping.
The azure tides are sleeping;
A gallant field for a tournay's pride,
Where monarchs the lists are keeping.
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The mountains hoar on the girdling land,
That rise in their vast gradations,
The mighty seats of that theatre grand,
Are crowded with watching nations.
That rise in their vast gradations,
The mighty seats of that theatre grand,
Are crowded with watching nations.
The Heralds that open and close the lists,
Are the cloudy children of heaven:
They come in the spring in a robe of mists,
In cars by the West Wind driven.
Are the cloudy children of heaven:
They come in the spring in a robe of mists,
In cars by the West Wind driven.
In a crystal grave is buried the wave,
In a pall of white snow folden;
The great ships rest on its heaveless breast,
By the hand of winter holden:
In a pall of white snow folden;
The great ships rest on its heaveless breast,
By the hand of winter holden:
But so loud a blast those Heralds cast
To the billows beneath them lying,
They rise like the dead from their icy bed,
To the voice of their God replying.
To the billows beneath them lying,
They rise like the dead from their icy bed,
To the voice of their God replying.
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The avalanche falls from the distant hill;
The tomb of the sea is broken;
The great ships bound and the white sails fill:
'Tis thus that the lists they open.
The tomb of the sea is broken;
The great ships bound and the white sails fill:
'Tis thus that the lists they open.
But when the battle is doomed to cease,
And the sun to the south is clinging,
The East Wind comes like the Herald of Peace,
The angels of Mercy bringing.
And the sun to the south is clinging,
The East Wind comes like the Herald of Peace,
The angels of Mercy bringing.
He comes with the delicate spirits of air
That sit in the North's clear portals,
And weave, from the dew and the starlight fair,
The tissue called snow by mortals.
That sit in the North's clear portals,
And weave, from the dew and the starlight fair,
The tissue called snow by mortals.
On threads of invisible frost they glide,
Their fairy footfalls beaming
In thin white flakes, like the light that breaks
From the moon at morning gleaming.
Their fairy footfalls beaming
In thin white flakes, like the light that breaks
From the moon at morning gleaming.
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The boldest pirate that ploughs the brine
With red hand reeking from slaughter,
Flies, when he sees that gentle sign
Come stealing over the water.
With red hand reeking from slaughter,
Flies, when he sees that gentle sign
Come stealing over the water.
The bursting fire and the red ball's ire
The strongest of walls may shatter;
But the flakes of snow those spirits throw
His navies like dry leaves scatter.
The strongest of walls may shatter;
But the flakes of snow those spirits throw
His navies like dry leaves scatter.
The war's red rack and the battery black,
With ghastly trophies laden,
Their passage light leaves pure and white
As the thought of a spotless maiden.
With ghastly trophies laden,
Their passage light leaves pure and white
As the thought of a spotless maiden.
All night they sit on the helm and prow,
Calling the North Light nigher;
Rocking the great ship to and fro,
And stilling its heart of fire.
Calling the North Light nigher;
Rocking the great ship to and fro,
And stilling its heart of fire.
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Their cold thin fingers of hoar-frost sere
On the cannon's black lip laying:
'Tis hushed!—and the morn sees a trembling tear
Where the fires of death were playing.
On the cannon's black lip laying:
'Tis hushed!—and the morn sees a trembling tear
Where the fires of death were playing.
'Tis thus the East Wind comes in the night,
God's truce in his white flag waving,
The pride of the conqueror putting to flight,
But the wreck of the conquered saving.
God's truce in his white flag waving,
The pride of the conqueror putting to flight,
But the wreck of the conquered saving.
O'er the desolate slain his wreath is cast,
Of Death's pale winter-roses:
For a Herald of Peace the East Wind passed:
'Tis thus that the lists he closes.
Of Death's pale winter-roses:
For a Herald of Peace the East Wind passed:
'Tis thus that the lists he closes.
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III. The Arrival.
On the Baltic deep the sun went down,
And reddened its sounding floor,
And the shadows came like a gathering frown
From the hills of the Swedish shore.
And reddened its sounding floor,
And the shadows came like a gathering frown
From the hills of the Swedish shore.
The plains of Muscovy far away
Grew pale with a ghastly white;
On the Western lands was the light of day,
But over the East was night.
Grew pale with a ghastly white;
On the Western lands was the light of day,
But over the East was night.
And where the twilight and golden gleam
Commingle, a mighty shape—
Still as a shadow, dim as a dream—
Comes gliding around the cape.
Commingle, a mighty shape—
Still as a shadow, dim as a dream—
Comes gliding around the cape.
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Another yet, and in long array
The ships of the Sea-Queen sweep,
As though the mountains, loosed from the bay,
Floated out on the open deep.
The ships of the Sea-Queen sweep,
As though the mountains, loosed from the bay,
Floated out on the open deep.
The touch of a child can stay their course,
Yet nought can their might withstand,—
Type of a wise free people's force,
So docile, and yet so grand.
Yet nought can their might withstand,—
Type of a wise free people's force,
So docile, and yet so grand.
They swayed with the lightest wave that broke,
They swung at the slightest breath;
Yet an empire's heart's in their ribs of oak,
And the strength of the Titan, Death!
They swung at the slightest breath;
Yet an empire's heart's in their ribs of oak,
And the strength of the Titan, Death!
To the coast of Muscovy slow they stood,
Where ocean and sky combine;
And as clouds with storms of the morrow brood,
Settle down in a long dark line.
Where ocean and sky combine;
And as clouds with storms of the morrow brood,
Settle down in a long dark line.
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Oh! then was a stir in that region vast,—
A noise of a realm's affright;
And the millions dull, 'neath a level cast,
Clamoured up in their soulless night.
A noise of a realm's affright;
And the millions dull, 'neath a level cast,
Clamoured up in their soulless night.
Do they dream of a day that in glory comes?
Of a morn that is mounting higher,
When Freedom speaks through the roll of drums,
And walks in a shroud of fire?
Of a morn that is mounting higher,
When Freedom speaks through the roll of drums,
And walks in a shroud of fire?
On Muscovy's plains the sun shall rise
And herald a day more bright:
They are but dark with a curse that dies,
And shall wake to a deathless light.
And herald a day more bright:
They are but dark with a curse that dies,
And shall wake to a deathless light.
For knowledge sublime from the West shall come,
As it came from the East of yore;
A child that brought pearls of great price from home,
Returning to render back more.
As it came from the East of yore;
A child that brought pearls of great price from home,
Returning to render back more.
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IV The Words of the West.
I fight for the rights of the free, said the West,
I fight for the rights of the free;
And I come from the lands that Peace loves best,
And the sovereign Isles of the Sea;
From the isles that rest
On the blue wave's breast,
Like thrones for the Queen of the Sea.
I fight for the rights of the free;
And I come from the lands that Peace loves best,
And the sovereign Isles of the Sea;
From the isles that rest
On the blue wave's breast,
Like thrones for the Queen of the Sea.
I fight not for kingdoms or gold, said the West,
Not for riches, dominion, or might;
But for what is worth more to the manly breast,—
For the triumph of human right;
And the fetters to wrest from the weak and oppressed,
And the tyrant of nations to smite.
Not for riches, dominion, or might;
But for what is worth more to the manly breast,—
For the triumph of human right;
And the fetters to wrest from the weak and oppressed,
And the tyrant of nations to smite.
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'Tis true that I covet in peace to bide,
And shudder at carnage and strife,
And value more highly than all earth's pride
The blood of one human life:
In my strength's calm reliance I blazoned it wide,
And you thought I was panic-rife.
And shudder at carnage and strife,
And value more highly than all earth's pride
The blood of one human life:
In my strength's calm reliance I blazoned it wide,
And you thought I was panic-rife.
'Tis true that I barter, and sell, and buy,
And that war is prosperity's grave;
Yet because I am wealthy, no craven am I,
Nor fettered as Mammon's slave;
And my blood is as warm and my heart as high
As that of the blustering knave.
And that war is prosperity's grave;
Yet because I am wealthy, no craven am I,
Nor fettered as Mammon's slave;
And my blood is as warm and my heart as high
As that of the blustering knave.
'Tis true that I trusted the word you passed,
And reposed on your base guarantee,
And that I slowly treated while you armed fast,
For I thought you had honour like me;
But hope not to baffle and cheat me at last,
Tho' crafty as Satan you be.
And reposed on your base guarantee,
And that I slowly treated while you armed fast,
For I thought you had honour like me;
But hope not to baffle and cheat me at last,
Tho' crafty as Satan you be.
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'Tis true that your cunning, our councils to mar,
Its mean royal sycophants sends;
That foes are amidst us as well as afar,
And the worst are the seeming friends,
Who would turn the tide of a nation's war
To their own petty selfish ends.
Its mean royal sycophants sends;
That foes are amidst us as well as afar,
And the worst are the seeming friends,
Who would turn the tide of a nation's war
To their own petty selfish ends.
But they yet shall learn there's a manly sense
In the midst of my Western land,
That dynasties are but an idle pretence
When in Liberty's way they stand,
And that rights of nations are not bartered hence
With a young lady's delicate hand.
In the midst of my Western land,
That dynasties are but an idle pretence
When in Liberty's way they stand,
And that rights of nations are not bartered hence
With a young lady's delicate hand.
There is metal yet of the selfsame ore
That the sword of a Sydney made;
There are hearts that are sound to the inmost core,
Uncankered by traffic and trade;
And the world shall find I can rise once more,
And strike in the new crusade.
That the sword of a Sydney made;
There are hearts that are sound to the inmost core,
Uncankered by traffic and trade;
And the world shall find I can rise once more,
And strike in the new crusade.
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For I fight for the rights of the free, said the West,
Nor for riches, dominion, or might;
But for what is worth more to the manly breast,
For the triumph of human right;
And the fetters to wrest
From the weak and oppressed,
And the tyrant of nations to smite.
Nor for riches, dominion, or might;
But for what is worth more to the manly breast,
For the triumph of human right;
And the fetters to wrest
From the weak and oppressed,
And the tyrant of nations to smite.
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V. The Emperor's Vigil.
At Cronstadt in his granite palace
Walked the despot to and fro;
Gazing through the seaward windows,
Asking tidings of the foe.
Walked the despot to and fro;
Gazing through the seaward windows,
Asking tidings of the foe.
Redly had the sun descended
On the sea-line cold and clear;
Barren wastes of tumbling waters
Spread before him far and near.
On the sea-line cold and clear;
Barren wastes of tumbling waters
Spread before him far and near.
Trembling commerce fled their surface;
Not a war-ship rode the sea;
And the despot prayed in secret,
“May it long as desert be!”
Not a war-ship rode the sea;
And the despot prayed in secret,
“May it long as desert be!”
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Little clouds, a hand in bigness,
Mount the limit of the sight:
“See ye not yon specks in distance
“Fleck the evening's line of light?”
Mount the limit of the sight:
“See ye not yon specks in distance
“Fleck the evening's line of light?”
“Sire! 'tis but the sea-mist driving—
“'Tis the grey gulls' airy train—”
“Signs like those, in stormy climates,
“March before the hurricane!”
“'Tis the grey gulls' airy train—”
“Signs like those, in stormy climates,
“March before the hurricane!”
But the twilight swiftly thickens,
Sweeps the horizon from the view,
And, with deep foreboding voices,
Boom the tides the darkness through.
Sweeps the horizon from the view,
And, with deep foreboding voices,
Boom the tides the darkness through.
“Blot the sea-marks from our harbours!
“Quench the beacon's guiding light!
“Pile the granite mountains round us!
“Shroud us—cover us with night!”
“Quench the beacon's guiding light!
“Pile the granite mountains round us!
“Shroud us—cover us with night!”
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Glowing stars, with sudden lustre,
Leap from out the black expanse:
Thick the ships of England muster!
Fast the signal-rockets glance!
Leap from out the black expanse:
Thick the ships of England muster!
Fast the signal-rockets glance!
Start from unexpected places
Through the darkness still and cold;
And, with large bright sunny faces,
Look into the despot's hold.
Through the darkness still and cold;
And, with large bright sunny faces,
Look into the despot's hold.
Backward, to his inmost chamber,
Turns the monarch from the sight;
Conjures dreams of pomp and greatness,
Visions of imperial might.
Turns the monarch from the sight;
Conjures dreams of pomp and greatness,
Visions of imperial might.
But the heavy guns come rocking—
Rocking roof, and wall, and floor,
Like hands of retribution knocking—
Knocking at his empire's door.
Rocking roof, and wall, and floor,
Like hands of retribution knocking—
Knocking at his empire's door.
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And the despot, fever-driven,
Climbs the watch-tower's topmost height,
Gazes o'er his darkened heaven,
Seeks a solace from the night.
Climbs the watch-tower's topmost height,
Gazes o'er his darkened heaven,
Seeks a solace from the night.
Silent, Cronstadt lay below him,
With its arsenals of death;
Silent, crouched his boasted navy,
Stifling hard its steamy breath.
With its arsenals of death;
Silent, crouched his boasted navy,
Stifling hard its steamy breath.
E'en the foe's proud war-ships slumbered
Night's funereal watches through;
Things of dread, whose unseen presence
Magnifying terror knew.
Night's funereal watches through;
Things of dread, whose unseen presence
Magnifying terror knew.
Here and there alone, the lantern
Landward gleamed with swerveless ray,
Like the eye of some huge monster
Watching steadily its prey.
Landward gleamed with swerveless ray,
Like the eye of some huge monster
Watching steadily its prey.
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But the monarch turneth eastward,
And in sullen triumph smiles:
There his empire stretches boundless,
Boundless through unnumbered miles.
And in sullen triumph smiles:
There his empire stretches boundless,
Boundless through unnumbered miles.
There they lie, the fettered millions!
Wrapt in feverish slumber dim,
Dreaming, 'neath night's dark pavilions,
Of a darker morn for him!
Wrapt in feverish slumber dim,
Dreaming, 'neath night's dark pavilions,
Of a darker morn for him!
Boding sounds of sorrowing nations
Seem around that tower to meet,
And with sighs and lamentations
Break like surges at his feet.
Seem around that tower to meet,
And with sighs and lamentations
Break like surges at his feet.
Ghostly voices moan around him;
Strength for flight he may not find:
Half a century's years have bound him
As the chains a culprit bind.
Strength for flight he may not find:
Half a century's years have bound him
As the chains a culprit bind.
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From that watchtower's lonely summit
Dives his thought on every side:
Never heart of king shall fathom
Secrets of that human tide!
Dives his thought on every side:
Never heart of king shall fathom
Secrets of that human tide!
“Foes may fret my western borders,
“Foes may chafe my southern length:
“Past their utmost efforts, eastward—
“Eastward lies my hope and strength.
“Foes may chafe my southern length:
“Past their utmost efforts, eastward—
“Eastward lies my hope and strength.
“What shall shake the lord of Nations,
“Whom unnumbered slaves obey;
“Countless myriads blindly hast'ning
“To uphold my boundless sway?”
“Whom unnumbered slaves obey;
“Countless myriads blindly hast'ning
“To uphold my boundless sway?”
Straight—the wide horizon's lifted
Past the ken of mortal sight:
Pale Siberia, Freedom's graveyard,
Lies distinct in livid light.
Past the ken of mortal sight:
Pale Siberia, Freedom's graveyard,
Lies distinct in livid light.
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Are its stony mountains crumbling?
Do its solid plains arise?
What vast rack of pallid vapour
Comes up-steaming on the skies?
Do its solid plains arise?
What vast rack of pallid vapour
Comes up-steaming on the skies?
Ha! they mount from mine and dungeon!
Ha! they break from shroud and chain!
All the heroes he has murdered
All the martyrs he has slain.
Ha! they break from shroud and chain!
All the heroes he has murdered
All the martyrs he has slain.
Trampling up the murky zenith,
Still they climb the horizon's rim,
All their shadowy footsteps speeding
Over half the world to him.
Still they climb the horizon's rim,
All their shadowy footsteps speeding
Over half the world to him.
And a voice before them goeth,
Wailing like a freezing wind:
“Every one of us, the martyred,
“Left a bleeding heart behind.
Wailing like a freezing wind:
“Every one of us, the martyred,
“Left a bleeding heart behind.
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“Every home of dear ones rifled,
“Is an arsenal of hate;
“Every pulse thy hand has stifled,
“Shall come knocking at thy gate.
“Is an arsenal of hate;
“Every pulse thy hand has stifled,
“Shall come knocking at thy gate.
“Send the henchmen through thy confines
“On sedition's dim-seen track:
“Ours the shadowy steps they follow—
“Baffled they shall wander back!
“On sedition's dim-seen track:
“Ours the shadowy steps they follow—
“Baffled they shall wander back!
“While behind them, ever higher,
“Rises Revolution's tide:
“Even now the steps it touches
“Of thy throne's imperial pride.
“Rises Revolution's tide:
“Even now the steps it touches
“Of thy throne's imperial pride.
“Blood can never purchase safety;
“Tyrant's work is vainly done:
‘He, who slays a single foeman,
“Makes a hundred for the one.
“Tyrant's work is vainly done:
‘He, who slays a single foeman,
“Makes a hundred for the one.
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“In Siberia far we perished,
“But in Russia still we live!
“This the hope thine East has cherished,
“This the solace that we give.”
“But in Russia still we live!
“This the hope thine East has cherished,
“This the solace that we give.”
Hush! he hears their thrilling whisper!
See! he knows their icy breath!
Impalpable as air they gather,
But immense and real as Death.
See! he knows their icy breath!
Impalpable as air they gather,
But immense and real as Death.
“Save me! blot those horrid phantoms!
“Craven thought's fantastic lies—
“Oh! thou longed-for South! Support me
“With one glory from thy skies!
“Craven thought's fantastic lies—
“Oh! thou longed-for South! Support me
“With one glory from thy skies!
“Thou, Stamboul! the radiant daughter
“Of the Loves of East and West,
“Let me grasp thee but in vision,
“Soon to clasp thee to my breast!”
“Of the Loves of East and West,
“Let me grasp thee but in vision,
“Soon to clasp thee to my breast!”
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Straight—the wide horizon's lifted
Past the ken of mortal sight:
But 'tis not Stamboul he seeth
Slumbering fair in living light.
Past the ken of mortal sight:
But 'tis not Stamboul he seeth
Slumbering fair in living light.
Dark before him towers the Balkan,
Tier on tier in solemn ranks;
Angry flashes, red and sullen,
Breaking off its gloomy flanks.
Tier on tier in solemn ranks;
Angry flashes, red and sullen,
Breaking off its gloomy flanks.
Far away, in icy armour,
Caucasus gigantic stands,
With the deluge at his footsteps,
And the lightning in his hands.
Caucasus gigantic stands,
With the deluge at his footsteps,
And the lightning in his hands.
And between them, and before them,
Comes a world in arms arrayed,
Striding through that vast arena
O'er a grave a tyrant made.
Comes a world in arms arrayed,
Striding through that vast arena
O'er a grave a tyrant made.
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Hark! from nation on to nation,
Loud the calls to battle run:
“Peoples were not formed for tyrants!
“Millions were not made for one!
Loud the calls to battle run:
“Peoples were not formed for tyrants!
“Millions were not made for one!
“Arm ye! arm ye! Slave and Bondsman!
“Thrall and Exile! homeward turn!
“See! the flag of Freedom's lifted,
“Lo! the flames of vengeance burn!
“Thrall and Exile! homeward turn!
“See! the flag of Freedom's lifted,
“Lo! the flames of vengeance burn!
“What if monarchs will not help us?
“Self-reliance arms the least!
“Kings! the battle now beginning
“Stays not, ends not in the East.”
“Self-reliance arms the least!
“Kings! the battle now beginning
“Stays not, ends not in the East.”
And from Europe's farthest corners,
Diving up the spectral sky,
Pale, reproachful, sorrowing faces
Rise, and gaze at him, and sigh!
Diving up the spectral sky,
Pale, reproachful, sorrowing faces
Rise, and gaze at him, and sigh!
31
“Us a sceptred bravo murdered:
“Us a tyrant mean laid low:
“But from thee he gained the courage—
“His the dagger, thine the blow.
“Us a tyrant mean laid low:
“But from thee he gained the courage—
“His the dagger, thine the blow.
“Where'er heroes' ashes smouldered,
“Where'er honour's hope grew bright,
“There thine icy hand destroying
“Might be felt amid the night.
“Where'er honour's hope grew bright,
“There thine icy hand destroying
“Might be felt amid the night.
“King! thy glory hath departed,
“Dark we close thy dying day.”
Thus the sorrowful dim visions
Gaze, and sigh, and sink away.
“Dark we close thy dying day.”
Thus the sorrowful dim visions
Gaze, and sigh, and sink away.
Wondering stands the hope of monarchs,
Stands the God of knouts and chains;
He who made the world a graveyard,
And then boasted: “Order reigns!”
Stands the God of knouts and chains;
He who made the world a graveyard,
And then boasted: “Order reigns!”
32
On, thro' every trampled nation,
Wide the cry of vengeance ran,
Where his step of desolation
Had defiled the homes of man.
Wide the cry of vengeance ran,
Where his step of desolation
Had defiled the homes of man.
From Silistria's gory passes
First the dreadful accents fell,
And Dobrudscha's death-morasses
Wailing caught the passing knell.
First the dreadful accents fell,
And Dobrudscha's death-morasses
Wailing caught the passing knell.
Pale Stamboul exhausted answers
From each fading minaret,
Like the weak wind's low lamenting
When the suns of summer set.
From each fading minaret,
Like the weak wind's low lamenting
When the suns of summer set.
Slow, the sea-commanding Kingdom
Stirs its drowsy members vast;
But a voice from Seine's bright waters
Rings as clear as clarion blast:
Stirs its drowsy members vast;
But a voice from Seine's bright waters
Rings as clear as clarion blast:
33
“Once we entered Moscow's ramparts,
“Twice in Paris' walls we met:
“One such visit still we owe thee,
“Cossack! take the bloody debt!”
“Twice in Paris' walls we met:
“One such visit still we owe thee,
“Cossack! take the bloody debt!”
Through Sardinia's mountain girdle
Echo stirs in every cave;
E'en the Arab leaves the desert,
And the Bedouin breasts the wave.
Echo stirs in every cave;
E'en the Arab leaves the desert,
And the Bedouin breasts the wave.
Egypt peals a shout of triumph
Into Afric's heart away;
Memnon sings a song of battle
To the dawn of freedom's day.
Into Afric's heart away;
Memnon sings a song of battle
To the dawn of freedom's day.
Sunny plains of Anatolia
Onward still the burthen bear,
Dense as leaves of autumn rustling
Through its chestnut-forests fair.
Onward still the burthen bear,
Dense as leaves of autumn rustling
Through its chestnut-forests fair.
34
O'er the Persian's sultry borders
Low the cry portentous hies,
With the sound intense, when thunder
Faint upon the desert lies.
Low the cry portentous hies,
With the sound intense, when thunder
Faint upon the desert lies.
Over Asia's central ranges
Far the wandering echoes fall,
And Cathay, remotely listening,
Sighs behind its mouldering wall.
Far the wandering echoes fall,
And Cathay, remotely listening,
Sighs behind its mouldering wall.
Sad Sinope's silenced harbour
Hears beside its funeral mound,
And Circassia's granite temple
Backward flings the solemn sound;
Hears beside its funeral mound,
And Circassia's granite temple
Backward flings the solemn sound;
Till the fast returning echoes
All their gathering vengeance roll,
Bursting in one mighty thunder
At thy gate, Sebastopol!
All their gathering vengeance roll,
Bursting in one mighty thunder
At thy gate, Sebastopol!
35
Ha! the despot's prophet-vision
Sees its ramparts crumbling fall,
And the rush of foemen storming
Up its earthquake-shattered wall;
Sees its ramparts crumbling fall,
And the rush of foemen storming
Up its earthquake-shattered wall;
Sees his ships, the cruel boasters,
Sink beneath the inglorious tide,
Sink—without defeat's last honour—
Russia's ocean-suicide:
Sink beneath the inglorious tide,
Sink—without defeat's last honour—
Russia's ocean-suicide:
Still he proudly stands defiant,
Back his haughty challenge flings:
“Once before ye sought to quell me—
“Tilt against mine armour, Kings!
Back his haughty challenge flings:
“Once before ye sought to quell me—
“Tilt against mine armour, Kings!
“Some there are who dare not strike me—
“Some who will but strike me half—
“Though my conquered hosts lie bleeding,
“Safe behind them still I laugh!”
“Some who will but strike me half—
“Though my conquered hosts lie bleeding,
“Safe behind them still I laugh!”
36
What portentous change is passing
O'er the battle's order far?
“Who are these with brows of glory,
“Charging through the ranks of war?
O'er the battle's order far?
“Who are these with brows of glory,
“Charging through the ranks of war?
“What new host sublime advances,
“What old flags are waving wide?”
Hungary! Hungary lifts her lances—
Poland rushes to her side!
“What old flags are waving wide?”
Hungary! Hungary lifts her lances—
Poland rushes to her side!
“All too long, and now no longer,
“Wait we for a foreign might;
“Kings are strong, but Peoples stronger
“With the wisdom to unite.”
“Wait we for a foreign might;
“Kings are strong, but Peoples stronger
“With the wisdom to unite.”
“Have I not yet slain thee, Poland!
“Art thou rising from thy grave?”
Tyrant, nations are immortal—
Nothing dieth but a slave.
“Art thou rising from thy grave?”
Tyrant, nations are immortal—
Nothing dieth but a slave.
37
Freedom's banner waving o'er them,
On their conquering legions pass:
Wide thine armies fly before them,
Down thy ramparts fall like glass.
On their conquering legions pass:
Wide thine armies fly before them,
Down thy ramparts fall like glass.
“Thou! whom once I saved in peril,
“Haste to help me! Austria! rise.”
Vain! the hoary-headed sinner
Gasps forth “Italy!”—and dies.
“Haste to help me! Austria! rise.”
Vain! the hoary-headed sinner
Gasps forth “Italy!”—and dies.
“Thou! once prostrate at my footstool,
“Prussia! arm thy filial band!”
Vain! the dastard knave unblushing
Spurns his fall'n protector's hand.
“Prussia! arm thy filial band!”
Vain! the dastard knave unblushing
Spurns his fall'n protector's hand.
Without honour to defend him,
Without courage to oppose,
Cringes, till he sees him conquered,
Then triumphant joins his foes.
Without courage to oppose,
Cringes, till he sees him conquered,
Then triumphant joins his foes.
38
Eased in brain by wordy vapour,
Strikes his hollow heartless breast,
Claims his share for doing nothing,
Cries, “We did it!”—with the rest.
Strikes his hollow heartless breast,
Claims his share for doing nothing,
Cries, “We did it!”—with the rest.
Then the monarch's brow grew lofty
With a brave imperial pride:
Even Tyranny looks noble,
Seen by such poor Treason's side.
With a brave imperial pride:
Even Tyranny looks noble,
Seen by such poor Treason's side.
“Type of ancient rule, I battled—
“Modern thoughts and forms prevail;—
“Foiled alone by heroes banded,
“Cravens shall not see me quail.
“Modern thoughts and forms prevail;—
“Foiled alone by heroes banded,
“Cravens shall not see me quail.
“Down the old world sinks beneath me,
“And the new world shineth forth:
“Has the Russians' God forsaken?
“Hast thou not a word, O North!”
“And the new world shineth forth:
“Has the Russians' God forsaken?
“Hast thou not a word, O North!”
39
Then the North Light flamed in heaven,
And the North Star paler grew;
And there passed an awful whisper
Snowy wastes and pine-woods through.
And the North Star paler grew;
And there passed an awful whisper
Snowy wastes and pine-woods through.
Fear o'ercame the mighty monarch,
For he felt that fatal breath,
E'en through India's torrid noontide
Chills the bounding blood with death.
For he felt that fatal breath,
E'en through India's torrid noontide
Chills the bounding blood with death.
'Twas the North God's dooming answer!
Trembling Love and Science brave,
Those who once have heard that summons,
Vainly—vainly strive to save!
Trembling Love and Science brave,
Those who once have heard that summons,
Vainly—vainly strive to save!
Passed the vigil of the midnight,
Rose the broad sun's busy hour;
Courtiers still cry—“Live for ever!
“Earth-God! who shall stay thy power?”
Rose the broad sun's busy hour;
Courtiers still cry—“Live for ever!
“Earth-God! who shall stay thy power?”
40
Some few days he walked among them,
Hushed beneath unwonted awe:
Those around him wildering wondered
At the solemn change they saw.
Hushed beneath unwonted awe:
Those around him wildering wondered
At the solemn change they saw.
Then the Czar went forth at morning,
Mustered calm his legioned pride,
Heard Death whisper through his clarions,
Bowed his lofty head, and died.
Mustered calm his legioned pride,
Heard Death whisper through his clarions,
Bowed his lofty head, and died.
41
VI. The Sailor's Night Watch
What steals upon the midnight?
What walks across the wave,
Where the moon's long light-path stretches o'er
The sailor's sullen grave,
Like a bridge that is built by angels,
The sinking soul to save?
What walks across the wave,
Where the moon's long light-path stretches o'er
The sailor's sullen grave,
Like a bridge that is built by angels,
The sinking soul to save?
One end on the ship-side resteth,
And one is held afar—
Far—far in the lands of heaven and home,
By the hand of the Evening Star:
And my thoughts travel over and linger
Where those that I love so are!
And one is held afar—
Far—far in the lands of heaven and home,
By the hand of the Evening Star:
And my thoughts travel over and linger
Where those that I love so are!
42
And then, in the stilly midnight,
Sweet forms come tripping o'er,
For I see at the end of that ray of light
My home on a pleasant shore,
And my dear one lonely and sad within,
And my child at the cottage-door.
Sweet forms come tripping o'er,
For I see at the end of that ray of light
My home on a pleasant shore,
And my dear one lonely and sad within,
And my child at the cottage-door.
Their eyes are turned towards me,
And I beckon them to my side;
I beckon them up with the pulse of my heart,
And they come o'er the ocean wide,
On that delicate path that the angels made
For the feet of my sorrowing bride.
And I beckon them to my side;
I beckon them up with the pulse of my heart,
And they come o'er the ocean wide,
On that delicate path that the angels made
For the feet of my sorrowing bride.
And she sitteth here beside me,
And she telleth of love and home,
And she placeth her hand in mine, with a touch
As light as the milky foam:
I dare not look, but I know she is there,
And my thoughts to their haven roam.
And she telleth of love and home,
And she placeth her hand in mine, with a touch
As light as the milky foam:
I dare not look, but I know she is there,
And my thoughts to their haven roam.
43
And such words she whispers to me,
Through mine inmost soul they flow:
“They will ask me at home if my love was brave,
“They will look in my face to know:
“While I cry to Heaven; ‘Oh, spare us, Lord!
“‘As he spareth the prostrate foe.’”
Through mine inmost soul they flow:
“They will ask me at home if my love was brave,
“They will look in my face to know:
“While I cry to Heaven; ‘Oh, spare us, Lord!
“‘As he spareth the prostrate foe.’”
The wave rolls over the sea—
The cloud glides over the sky—
And the spell-bound vision of beauty and love
Breaks—breaks with a sudden sigh;
But bless'd be that watch of the midnight,
That lifted my heart more high.
The cloud glides over the sky—
And the spell-bound vision of beauty and love
Breaks—breaks with a sudden sigh;
But bless'd be that watch of the midnight,
That lifted my heart more high.
44
VII. The Return.
We return—but not down-hearted;
Not a warrior vails his brow:
Proud and joyous we departed,
And as proud return we now.
Not a warrior vails his brow:
Proud and joyous we departed,
And as proud return we now.
Do you ask for our achievements—
What the cities we laid low?
Greater 'tis to save a kinsman,
Greater than to smite a foe.
What the cities we laid low?
Greater 'tis to save a kinsman,
Greater than to smite a foe.
And your eyes, to mete our service,
Need not wander o'er the flood:
See in England—not in Russia—
What we did for England's good.
Need not wander o'er the flood:
See in England—not in Russia—
What we did for England's good.
45
England's shores were in our keeping,
England's commerce in our trust:
Are your widowed mothers weeping?
Are your stately mansions dust?
England's commerce in our trust:
Are your widowed mothers weeping?
Are your stately mansions dust?
Have your coasts, from Wight to Orkney,
Seen a single foeman's sail—
Save the captives that we sent ye
To adorn your triumph's tale?
Seen a single foeman's sail—
Save the captives that we sent ye
To adorn your triumph's tale?
On your seaboard commerce tarries,
And along its virgin coast
Still your great unrivalled cities
Their unchallenged grandeur boast.
And along its virgin coast
Still your great unrivalled cities
Their unchallenged grandeur boast.
Not for useless cruel slaughter
England sent her warriors forth;
But to keep the world's peace-breaker
Captive in his sullen North.
England sent her warriors forth;
But to keep the world's peace-breaker
Captive in his sullen North.
46
Captive in his own dominion
Did we hold him at our will;
At his prison bars he struggled,
But he lies there captive still!
Did we hold him at our will;
At his prison bars he struggled,
But he lies there captive still!
Safe with us was England's honour—
Safe we bring it back again:
Never once the foeman's navy
Faced the mistress of the main.
Safe we bring it back again:
Never once the foeman's navy
Faced the mistress of the main.
Though to woo him to the battle,
Half our ships we sent away,
And before him, twice our number,
Two long weeks our challenge lay.
Half our ships we sent away,
And before him, twice our number,
Two long weeks our challenge lay.
On his ramparts fell our thunder,
And their voice grew still and tame,
Bomarsund we rent asunder,
Sveaborg expired in flame.
And their voice grew still and tame,
Bomarsund we rent asunder,
Sveaborg expired in flame.
47
But we spared the trader's palace,
And we spared the fisher's cot,
As we struck for England's honour—
But for blood and vengeance not.
And we spared the fisher's cot,
As we struck for England's honour—
But for blood and vengeance not.
We return, but not down-hearted;
Not a comrade vails his brow:
Proud and joyous we departed,
And as proud return we now.
Not a comrade vails his brow:
Proud and joyous we departed,
And as proud return we now.
48
VIII. Prayer for Peace.
God of Battles! give us peace!
Not the peace of beaten slaves;
Not the truce that Mammon craves,
Wavering, frail and insecure,
Such as despots bid endure—
Smouldering lull that gives them breath
For redoubling flames of death;
Fragile thing with terror rife;
Trembling nurse of growing strife:
Give the peace that men bestow
Who, with ne'er a second blow,
Kill the cause of war—then cease.
God of Battles! give us peace!
Not the peace of beaten slaves;
Not the truce that Mammon craves,
Wavering, frail and insecure,
Such as despots bid endure—
Smouldering lull that gives them breath
For redoubling flames of death;
Fragile thing with terror rife;
Trembling nurse of growing strife:
Give the peace that men bestow
Who, with ne'er a second blow,
49
God of Battles! give us peace!
God of Battles! give us peace.
Peace, O Lord! to us though dear,
Peace may prove a thing to fear.
There is peace far worse than strife:
Peace that rots a people's life;
When, alike in darkness thrust,
Sword and heart together rust,
And the light of honour dies
In a scabbard made of lies.
Peace may kill by slow decay
Those, no sword of Hun could slay,
Leaving of the greatness gone
But a fleshless skeleton.
Sunk in lust and shameless ease,
War may bring to such as these
Fame's aspiring, glory's goal,
Resurrection for the soul.
God of Battles! give us peace;
Not a peace that mocks the land,
Binding wounds with poisoned hand.
There is peace that more hath slain
Than e'er fell in red campaign,
Stricken still and silent down,
Through the country and the town.
Soldiers true, they battled well;
Long they fought, sublime they fell.
No one pauses by their grave;
No one writes: “Here lie the brave.
“Hunger slew them, cold and tears,
“Through their long campaign of years.
“Soldiers march in honour's name;
“Hear in music future fame;
“Win from banded brothers, might,
“Sink at last in glory's light;
“And, when death has laid them low,
“Gain a tribute from the foe:
“Braver those, who slumber here—
“Theirs nor friend nor fame to cheer;
“Theirs, amid life's growing shade,
“But the song their own hearts made.
“Theirs no tribute o'er the grave:
“Still they fought!—Here lie the brave.”
Peace, O Lord! to us though dear,
Peace may prove a thing to fear.
There is peace far worse than strife:
Peace that rots a people's life;
When, alike in darkness thrust,
Sword and heart together rust,
And the light of honour dies
In a scabbard made of lies.
Peace may kill by slow decay
Those, no sword of Hun could slay,
Leaving of the greatness gone
But a fleshless skeleton.
Sunk in lust and shameless ease,
War may bring to such as these
Fame's aspiring, glory's goal,
Resurrection for the soul.
50
Not a peace that mocks the land,
Binding wounds with poisoned hand.
There is peace that more hath slain
Than e'er fell in red campaign,
Stricken still and silent down,
Through the country and the town.
Soldiers true, they battled well;
Long they fought, sublime they fell.
No one pauses by their grave;
No one writes: “Here lie the brave.
“Hunger slew them, cold and tears,
“Through their long campaign of years.
“Soldiers march in honour's name;
“Hear in music future fame;
“Win from banded brothers, might,
“Sink at last in glory's light;
“And, when death has laid them low,
“Gain a tribute from the foe:
“Braver those, who slumber here—
“Theirs nor friend nor fame to cheer;
51
“But the song their own hearts made.
“Theirs no tribute o'er the grave:
“Still they fought!—Here lie the brave.”
God of Battles! give us peace.
Yet we shrink not from the strife,
Long as honour claims a life.
Well we know that battle brings
Many sorrows on its wings:
Want and waste, and pressure sore;
But we'll bear them all, and more;
Well we know that war demands
Many offerings at our hands:
Bread to fail, and blood to flow:
Freely, gladly, we'll bestow,
Bear our burden brave and mute,
So our burden bears its fruit,
And no treacherous arts undo
Valour's deeds of honour true.
So that when, bereft and lorn,
Trembling we exult and mourn,
Counting all we lost and won,
When the great brave battle's done,
By the closed grave we can stand,
Million mourners hand in hand,
Breathing o'er our dear ones slain:
“God be praised! 'twas not in vain.”
Yet we shrink not from the strife,
Long as honour claims a life.
Well we know that battle brings
Many sorrows on its wings:
Want and waste, and pressure sore;
But we'll bear them all, and more;
Well we know that war demands
Many offerings at our hands:
Bread to fail, and blood to flow:
Freely, gladly, we'll bestow,
Bear our burden brave and mute,
So our burden bears its fruit,
And no treacherous arts undo
Valour's deeds of honour true.
52
Trembling we exult and mourn,
Counting all we lost and won,
When the great brave battle's done,
By the closed grave we can stand,
Million mourners hand in hand,
Breathing o'er our dear ones slain:
“God be praised! 'twas not in vain.”
God of Battles! give us peace;
And oh! grant that, while we fight,
We may strike for truth and right.
Not for Islam's wreck alone;
Not to prop the Austrian's throne;
Not, as dotard folly doth,
Smite the Hun to save the Goth.
Not, oh! mockery's crowning work!
Spurn the Pole, yet help the Turk!
God of Battles! give us peace,
Rich with honour's proud increase:
Peace that frees the fettered brave;
Peace that scorns to make a slave;
Peace that spurns a tyrant's hand;
Peace that lifts each fallen land;
Peace of peoples, not of kings;
Peace that conquering freedom brings;
Peace that bids oppression cease:
God of Battles! give us peace.
And oh! grant that, while we fight,
We may strike for truth and right.
Not for Islam's wreck alone;
Not to prop the Austrian's throne;
Not, as dotard folly doth,
Smite the Hun to save the Goth.
Not, oh! mockery's crowning work!
Spurn the Pole, yet help the Turk!
God of Battles! give us peace,
Rich with honour's proud increase:
53
Peace that scorns to make a slave;
Peace that spurns a tyrant's hand;
Peace that lifts each fallen land;
Peace of peoples, not of kings;
Peace that conquering freedom brings;
Peace that bids oppression cease:
God of Battles! give us peace.
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