The Poetical Works of the Rev: H. H. Milman In three volumes |
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JUDICIUM REGALE,
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 | The Poetical Works of the Rev: H. H. Milman |  |
307
JUDICIUM REGALE,
AN ODE.
I slept, and as in solemn judgment court,
Amid a tall imperial city, sate
The sceptred of the world: their regal port
Show'd lords of earth; and as on empire's fate
They communed, grave each brow, and front serene;
Holy and high their royalty of mien;
Seem'd nor pale passion, nor blind interest base,
Within that kingly Sanhedrin had place.
Amid a tall imperial city, sate
The sceptred of the world: their regal port
Show'd lords of earth; and as on empire's fate
They communed, grave each brow, and front serene;
Holy and high their royalty of mien;
Seem'd nor pale passion, nor blind interest base,
Within that kingly Sanhedrin had place.
Abroad were sounds as of a storm gone past,
Or midnight on a dismal battle field;
Aye some drear trumpet spake its lonely blast,
Aye in deep distance sad artillery peal'd,
Booming their sullen thunders—then ensued
The majesty of silence—on her throne
Of plain or mountain, listening sate and lone
Each nation to those crowned Peers' decree;
And this wide world of restless beings rude
Lay mute and breathless as a summer sea.
To the Universal Judge, that conclave proud
Their diadem-starr'd foreheads lowly bow'd;
When, at some viewless summoner's stern call,
Uprose in place the Imperial Criminal.
Or midnight on a dismal battle field;
Aye some drear trumpet spake its lonely blast,
Aye in deep distance sad artillery peal'd,
Booming their sullen thunders—then ensued
The majesty of silence—on her throne
Of plain or mountain, listening sate and lone
Each nation to those crowned Peers' decree;
And this wide world of restless beings rude
Lay mute and breathless as a summer sea.
308
Their diadem-starr'd foreheads lowly bow'd;
When, at some viewless summoner's stern call,
Uprose in place the Imperial Criminal.
In that wan face nor ancient majesty
Left wither'd splendor dim, nor old renown
Lofty disdain in that sad sunken eye;
No giant ruin even in wreck elate
Frowning dominion o'er imperious fate,
But one to native lowliness cast down.
A sullen, careless desperation gave
The hollow semblance of intrepid grief,
Not that heroic patience nobly brave,
That even from misery wrings a proud relief;
Nor the dark pride of haughty spirits of ill,
That from the towering grandeur of their sin,
Wear on the brow triumphant gladness still,
Heedless of racking agony within;
Nor penitence was there, nor pale remorse,
Nor memory of his fall from kingly state,
And warrior glory in his sun-like course,
Fortune his slave, and Victory his mate.
'Twere doubt if that dark form could truly feel,
Or were indeed a shape and soul of steel.
Left wither'd splendor dim, nor old renown
Lofty disdain in that sad sunken eye;
No giant ruin even in wreck elate
Frowning dominion o'er imperious fate,
But one to native lowliness cast down.
A sullen, careless desperation gave
The hollow semblance of intrepid grief,
Not that heroic patience nobly brave,
That even from misery wrings a proud relief;
Nor the dark pride of haughty spirits of ill,
That from the towering grandeur of their sin,
Wear on the brow triumphant gladness still,
Heedless of racking agony within;
Nor penitence was there, nor pale remorse,
Nor memory of his fall from kingly state,
And warrior glory in his sun-like course,
Fortune his slave, and Victory his mate.
'Twere doubt if that dark form could truly feel,
Or were indeed a shape and soul of steel.
With that from North and South an ireful train
Came forth that mighty culprit to arraign.
The first was as a savage Horseman bold,
Uncouth his rude attire, his bearing wild;
But gallant was his brow that lightly smiled,
As seeming war some merry sport to hold:
The air whereon his fleet steed seem'd to prance
Flamed with the steely bickering of his lance.
And on the waves of his broad banner's fold
An old barbaric Capital he bore,
Like some tall grove of pinnacle and spire,
Or snowy white, or gleaming rich with gold:
But the red havoc of upspringing fire
A fatal flood of glory seem'd to pour;
And still from gilded roof or dome upbroke
In dusky pillars huge the cloudy smoke.
Nor word that Horseman spake, but as he came
Waved his grim standard like a pall of flame.
Came forth that mighty culprit to arraign.
309
Uncouth his rude attire, his bearing wild;
But gallant was his brow that lightly smiled,
As seeming war some merry sport to hold:
The air whereon his fleet steed seem'd to prance
Flamed with the steely bickering of his lance.
And on the waves of his broad banner's fold
An old barbaric Capital he bore,
Like some tall grove of pinnacle and spire,
Or snowy white, or gleaming rich with gold:
But the red havoc of upspringing fire
A fatal flood of glory seem'd to pour;
And still from gilded roof or dome upbroke
In dusky pillars huge the cloudy smoke.
Nor word that Horseman spake, but as he came
Waved his grim standard like a pall of flame.
And next came one all trim in fearful grace
And tall majestic symmetry of war,
Musket and bayonet flashing bright and far;
Deliberate valour in his slow firm pace,
And scorn of death—him at the portal arch
Saluted blithe old Frederick's bugle march.
Heavy his charge—of lordly King bow'd down
In his own royal city to the frown
Of the base minion to a despot's hate—
Then blanch'd the Soldier's bronzed and furrow'd cheek,
While of coarse taunting outrage he 'gan speak,
To her the beautiful, the delicate,
The queenly, but too gentle for a Queen—
But in sweet pride upon that insult keen
She smiled—then drooping mute, though broken hearted,
To the cold comfort of the grave departed.
And tall majestic symmetry of war,
Musket and bayonet flashing bright and far;
Deliberate valour in his slow firm pace,
And scorn of death—him at the portal arch
Saluted blithe old Frederick's bugle march.
Heavy his charge—of lordly King bow'd down
In his own royal city to the frown
Of the base minion to a despot's hate—
310
While of coarse taunting outrage he 'gan speak,
To her the beautiful, the delicate,
The queenly, but too gentle for a Queen—
But in sweet pride upon that insult keen
She smiled—then drooping mute, though broken hearted,
To the cold comfort of the grave departed.
The next like some old Baron's lordly son
Bore what a rich imperial crown had been,
But from its stars the pride of light was gone;
The joy of vengeance on that warrior's mien
Was chasing the red hues of ancient shame:
Not of Marengo's fair-fought field he told,
Nor the wide waves of blood huge Danube roll'd;
But him that in strong Ulm play'd that foul game,
Bartering his country and his soul for gold:
And that fair royal Maid, by battle won
Like thing that hath nor will nor sense, and borne
A bright and beauteous trophy to adorn
The brittle grandeur of an upstart's throne.
Bore what a rich imperial crown had been,
But from its stars the pride of light was gone;
The joy of vengeance on that warrior's mien
Was chasing the red hues of ancient shame:
Not of Marengo's fair-fought field he told,
Nor the wide waves of blood huge Danube roll'd;
But him that in strong Ulm play'd that foul game,
Bartering his country and his soul for gold:
And that fair royal Maid, by battle won
Like thing that hath nor will nor sense, and borne
A bright and beauteous trophy to adorn
The brittle grandeur of an upstart's throne.
Next came a stately Lady, once was she
Queen of the Nations: of her despot sway
Earth boasted, every flood and every sea
Water'd her tributary realms, and day
Rose only on her empire: now it seem'd
That she had cast her cumbrous crown away
To slumber in her vales that basking lie
In the luxurious azure of her sky;
On Saint or Virgin, such as Raphael dream'd,
In almost blameless fond idolatry,
Speechless to gaze, and bow the adoring knee;
In the soul's secret chambers to prolong
The rapturous ravishment of harp and song.
Music was in her steps, and all her eye
Was dark and eloquent with ecstasy.
Queen of the Nations: of her despot sway
Earth boasted, every flood and every sea
Water'd her tributary realms, and day
Rose only on her empire: now it seem'd
That she had cast her cumbrous crown away
To slumber in her vales that basking lie
In the luxurious azure of her sky;
311
In almost blameless fond idolatry,
Speechless to gaze, and bow the adoring knee;
In the soul's secret chambers to prolong
The rapturous ravishment of harp and song.
Music was in her steps, and all her eye
Was dark and eloquent with ecstasy.
Rapine her charge—of Florence' princely halls,
And that fall'n Empress by old Tiber's side
Reft of the sole sad relics of her pride;
For the iron conqueror ravish'd from her walls
Those shapes that in their breathing colours warm
In tall arcade or saintly chapel lived,
And all wherein the soul of Greece survived
The more than human of each marble form.
And that fall'n Empress by old Tiber's side
Reft of the sole sad relics of her pride;
For the iron conqueror ravish'd from her walls
Those shapes that in their breathing colours warm
In tall arcade or saintly chapel lived,
And all wherein the soul of Greece survived
The more than human of each marble form.
Of the proud bridegroom of the Adrian Sea,
Once like his bride magnificent and free,
Sunk to a bond-slave's desperate apathy.
Once like his bride magnificent and free,
Sunk to a bond-slave's desperate apathy.
And him the Holiest deem'd, the chosen of God,
Beneath an earthly lord bow'd down to kiss the rod.
Beneath an earthly lord bow'd down to kiss the rod.
And next came one, the bravery of whose front
Crested hereditary pride; his arms
Were dark and dinted by rude battle's brunt:
Of Sovereign young he spake, by wizard charms
Of hollow smiling treachery from the throne
Of two fair worlds to felon durance lured,
A King in narrow prison walls immured;
And some rude islander's soul-groveling son
Set up to be a princely nation's Lord:—
But then the Spaniard with fierce brow and bright
Brandish'd the cloudy flaming of his sword;
Full was his soul of Zaragoza's fight,
And the high Pyrenean snows o'erleap'd,
And other Pavias with Frank carnage heap'd.
Crested hereditary pride; his arms
Were dark and dinted by rude battle's brunt:
Of Sovereign young he spake, by wizard charms
312
Of two fair worlds to felon durance lured,
A King in narrow prison walls immured;
And some rude islander's soul-groveling son
Set up to be a princely nation's Lord:—
But then the Spaniard with fierce brow and bright
Brandish'd the cloudy flaming of his sword;
Full was his soul of Zaragoza's fight,
And the high Pyrenean snows o'erleap'd,
And other Pavias with Frank carnage heap'd.
The brother of his wrongs and of his wrath
Was with him in the triumph of his path.
He of his exile Prince 'gan loudly boast;
To be a sceptred slave, a pageant King,
He scorn'd, and on his fleet bark's gallant wing
For kingly freedom the wild ocean crost.
Was with him in the triumph of his path.
He of his exile Prince 'gan loudly boast;
To be a sceptred slave, a pageant King,
He scorn'd, and on his fleet bark's gallant wing
For kingly freedom the wild ocean crost.
Whom saw I then in port and pride a Queen,
Come walking o'er her own obsequious sea?
I knew thee well, the valiant, rich, and free!—
As when old Rome, her Roman virtue tame,
Gazed, when in arms that bold Dictator came;
With the iron ransom of her Capitol
Startled to flight the fierce insulting Gaul—
Camillus of mankind! thy regal mien
Gladdened all earth; the nations from their rest
Joyful upleaped: with modest front elate,
Like one that hath proud conscience in her breast,
Thou brakest the blank silence—“Woe and hate
To this bad man for those my good and great,
That sleep amid the Spaniard's mountains rude
In the sad beauty of the hero's fate.
To this bad man immortal gratitude,
For he hath taught, who slaves the free of earth
Fettereth the whirlwind: hath given glorious birth
To deeds that dwarf my old majestic fame,
Make Blake and Marlborough languid sound and tame
To Nelson and that Chief to whom defeat
Is like an undiscovered star—hath shown
More than the Macedonian victories vain
To rivet on the earth the Oppressor's chain:
As little will yon Sun's empyrean throne
Endure a mortal seat, as this wide globe
Be one man's appanage; or my fair isle,
That precious gem in ocean's azure robe,
Cast Freedom's banner down, by force or guile
Mastered, and forfeit earth's renown and love,
And her bright visions of high meed above.”
Come walking o'er her own obsequious sea?
I knew thee well, the valiant, rich, and free!—
As when old Rome, her Roman virtue tame,
Gazed, when in arms that bold Dictator came;
With the iron ransom of her Capitol
Startled to flight the fierce insulting Gaul—
Camillus of mankind! thy regal mien
313
Joyful upleaped: with modest front elate,
Like one that hath proud conscience in her breast,
Thou brakest the blank silence—“Woe and hate
To this bad man for those my good and great,
That sleep amid the Spaniard's mountains rude
In the sad beauty of the hero's fate.
To this bad man immortal gratitude,
For he hath taught, who slaves the free of earth
Fettereth the whirlwind: hath given glorious birth
To deeds that dwarf my old majestic fame,
Make Blake and Marlborough languid sound and tame
To Nelson and that Chief to whom defeat
Is like an undiscovered star—hath shown
More than the Macedonian victories vain
To rivet on the earth the Oppressor's chain:
As little will yon Sun's empyrean throne
Endure a mortal seat, as this wide globe
Be one man's appanage; or my fair isle,
That precious gem in ocean's azure robe,
Cast Freedom's banner down, by force or guile
Mastered, and forfeit earth's renown and love,
And her bright visions of high meed above.”
Then all at once did from all earth arise
Fierce imprecations on that man of sin;
And all the loaded winds came heavy in
With exultations and with agonies.
From the lone coldness of the widow's bed,
The feverish pillow of the orphan's head,
From dying men earth's woful valleys heaping,
From smouldering cities in their ashes sleeping,
Like the hoarse tumbling of a torrent flood
Mingled the dismal concord—“Blood for blood.”
Fierce imprecations on that man of sin;
And all the loaded winds came heavy in
With exultations and with agonies.
314
The feverish pillow of the orphan's head,
From dying men earth's woful valleys heaping,
From smouldering cities in their ashes sleeping,
Like the hoarse tumbling of a torrent flood
Mingled the dismal concord—“Blood for blood.”
But then arose a faded shape and pale,
Once had she been a peerless princely dame;
Downcast her grace of grief; she seemed to veil
The mournful beauty of her face for shame.
And is this she whose sprightly laughing mirth
Was like the blithe spring on the festal earth;
Aye dancing at the moonlight close of day,
'Mid purple vineyards, graceful, light, and gay;
Or in high pomp and gallant pride of port
Holding rich revel in her gorgeous court?—
Once had she been a peerless princely dame;
Downcast her grace of grief; she seemed to veil
The mournful beauty of her face for shame.
And is this she whose sprightly laughing mirth
Was like the blithe spring on the festal earth;
Aye dancing at the moonlight close of day,
'Mid purple vineyards, graceful, light, and gay;
Or in high pomp and gallant pride of port
Holding rich revel in her gorgeous court?—
Abrupt her speech and wild—“When I 'gan wake
From that my sleep of madness, all around
Of human blood a broad and livid lake
Was in my splendid cities; mound on mound
Rose peopled with my noble princely dead:
And o'er them the fell anarch, Murther, stood
Grimly reposing in his weary mood—
I turned, all trembling turned, my guilty head:
There humankind had leagued their arms of dread
'Gainst the Blasphemer of fair Freedom's name,
Heaven gave no hope, for heaven I dared disclaim.
High in the flaming car of victory riding,
From Alp to Alp his chamois warriors guiding,
The peril of wild Lodi's arch bestriding,
I saw yon Chieftain in his morn of fame;
Cities and armies at his beck sank down,
And in the gaudy colours of renown
The fabling Orient vested his young name.
The bright and baleful Meteor I adored,
Low bow'd I down, and said—‘Be thou my Lord!’
From that my sleep of madness, all around
Of human blood a broad and livid lake
Was in my splendid cities; mound on mound
Rose peopled with my noble princely dead:
And o'er them the fell anarch, Murther, stood
Grimly reposing in his weary mood—
I turned, all trembling turned, my guilty head:
There humankind had leagued their arms of dread
315
Heaven gave no hope, for heaven I dared disclaim.
High in the flaming car of victory riding,
From Alp to Alp his chamois warriors guiding,
The peril of wild Lodi's arch bestriding,
I saw yon Chieftain in his morn of fame;
Cities and armies at his beck sank down,
And in the gaudy colours of renown
The fabling Orient vested his young name.
The bright and baleful Meteor I adored,
Low bow'd I down, and said—‘Be thou my Lord!’
Like old and ruinous towers, the ancient thrones
Crumbled, and dynasties of elder time;
The banners of my conquest-plumed sons
Flouted the winds of many a distant clime:
On necks of vanquish'd kings I fix'd my seat,
And the broad Rhine roll'd vassal at my feet.
Crumbled, and dynasties of elder time;
The banners of my conquest-plumed sons
Flouted the winds of many a distant clime:
On necks of vanquish'd kings I fix'd my seat,
And the broad Rhine roll'd vassal at my feet.
Thrice did the indignant Nations league their might,
Thrice the red darkness of the battle night
Folded the recreant terror of their flight.
Realms sack'd and ravaged empires sooth'd my toils,
And Satrap Chiefs were Monarchs from my spoils.
Thrice the red darkness of the battle night
Folded the recreant terror of their flight.
Realms sack'd and ravaged empires sooth'd my toils,
And Satrap Chiefs were Monarchs from my spoils.
In solitude of freedom that rich Queen
Sate in her sanctity of waves serene.
From cliff and beach, dominion in their motion,
I saw her stately navies' broad array,
Like jealous lords at watch, that none but they
Adulterate with their fair majestic ocean.
And cries I heard like frenzy and dismay
Of Nelson, Nelson deepening on their way.
But what to me though red the western deep
With other fires than of the setting sun?
And what to me though round Trafalgar's steep
My haughty pennon'd galleys, one by one,
Come rolling their huge wrecks on the waves' sweep?
Go rule thy brawling and tumultuous sea,
Briton, but leave the servile earth to me.
And what to me though in my dungeons deep
By this new Charlemagne dark deeds were done—
Will the stones start and babble to the sun
How that bold Briton Wright, and Pichegru sleep?
Sate in her sanctity of waves serene.
316
I saw her stately navies' broad array,
Like jealous lords at watch, that none but they
Adulterate with their fair majestic ocean.
And cries I heard like frenzy and dismay
Of Nelson, Nelson deepening on their way.
But what to me though red the western deep
With other fires than of the setting sun?
And what to me though round Trafalgar's steep
My haughty pennon'd galleys, one by one,
Come rolling their huge wrecks on the waves' sweep?
Go rule thy brawling and tumultuous sea,
Briton, but leave the servile earth to me.
And what to me though in my dungeons deep
By this new Charlemagne dark deeds were done—
Will the stones start and babble to the sun
How that bold Briton Wright, and Pichegru sleep?
At noon of night I heard the drum of death,
Like evil spirits on the blasted heath
By the drear torchlight iron men were met.
The mockery of justice soon was pass'd;
Again the drum its dismal warning beat:
Then flashing muskets deathful lustre cast
A moment on the victim; he sedate
In calm disdain of even a felon's fate
His royal breast bared to the soldiers' mark,
Seeming to pity with his steady sight
Those poor mechanic murderers—then 'twas dark,
All but yon crown'd Assassin's visage bright,
Who waved his torch in horrible delight.
O blood of Condé! could thy spirit rest
In thy tame country's cold ungrateful breast?
Yet in my drunkenness of pride I mock'd
Mean crimes that would a petty tyrant shame,
For still in glory's cradle was I rock'd,
Mine eagle eyrie crown'd the steep of fame.
Nought heeded I, that the proud son of Spain,
Like a fierce courser that has burst his chain,
Shook the base slavery from his floating mane.
And that new British Arthur's virgin shield
Won its rich blazon on Vimeira's field.
Like evil spirits on the blasted heath
By the drear torchlight iron men were met.
The mockery of justice soon was pass'd;
Again the drum its dismal warning beat:
Then flashing muskets deathful lustre cast
A moment on the victim; he sedate
In calm disdain of even a felon's fate
317
Seeming to pity with his steady sight
Those poor mechanic murderers—then 'twas dark,
All but yon crown'd Assassin's visage bright,
Who waved his torch in horrible delight.
O blood of Condé! could thy spirit rest
In thy tame country's cold ungrateful breast?
Yet in my drunkenness of pride I mock'd
Mean crimes that would a petty tyrant shame,
For still in glory's cradle was I rock'd,
Mine eagle eyrie crown'd the steep of fame.
Nought heeded I, that the proud son of Spain,
Like a fierce courser that has burst his chain,
Shook the base slavery from his floating mane.
And that new British Arthur's virgin shield
Won its rich blazon on Vimeira's field.
For lo, my cities throw their portals wide;
Gorgeous my festal streets, as when of old
The monarchs met upon the Plain of Gold—
Lo, on my throne a bright and royal bride!
Gorgeous my festal streets, as when of old
The monarchs met upon the Plain of Gold—
Lo, on my throne a bright and royal bride!
Vain all my pomp, imperial beauty vain
The reveller in battles to restrain.
And at his word, as at the fabled wand
Of old magician, from the teeming land,
Myriad on myriad, harness'd warriors rise;
The earth was darkened with excess of light,
Line after line, insufferably bright;
The black artillery, in their cloudy might,
Impious defiance launched against the skies.
With tamer sounds did that wild Heathen vaunt
Amid his thunderous heavens high Jove to daunt.
Day after day I saw their pomp depart;
Then said the haughty frenzy of my heart,
When o'er this world thy victor wheels are driven,
Wilt thou go vanquish the bright stars of Heaven?
The reveller in battles to restrain.
And at his word, as at the fabled wand
Of old magician, from the teeming land,
Myriad on myriad, harness'd warriors rise;
The earth was darkened with excess of light,
Line after line, insufferably bright;
318
Impious defiance launched against the skies.
With tamer sounds did that wild Heathen vaunt
Amid his thunderous heavens high Jove to daunt.
Day after day I saw their pomp depart;
Then said the haughty frenzy of my heart,
When o'er this world thy victor wheels are driven,
Wilt thou go vanquish the bright stars of Heaven?
And lo, the rival nations hurrying
To crowd beneath my passing eagle's wing;
Lo, 'mong my captains many a sceptred king.
To crowd beneath my passing eagle's wing;
Lo, 'mong my captains many a sceptred king.
Now, now the Northern skies are all on fire
As with some mighty Empire's funeral pyre!
Why bring they not proud Catherine's trophies home?
I hear the sound of wheels—‘They come, they come.’
As with some mighty Empire's funeral pyre!
Why bring they not proud Catherine's trophies home?
I hear the sound of wheels—‘They come, they come.’
A solitary sound—no pomp of war,
One dastard pale accomplice of his flight,
He comes, whom earth, and all earth's sons obey,
The peerless and the paragon of might;
The pinnace of the Persian runaway
Was glory to his lone and hurrying car.
One dastard pale accomplice of his flight,
He comes, whom earth, and all earth's sons obey,
The peerless and the paragon of might;
The pinnace of the Persian runaway
Was glory to his lone and hurrying car.
I ask'd for those in fight, in triumph tried,
The partners of his peril and his pride.
He, in a tyrant's mockery of my woe,
Bade me go seek them in the Scythian snow.
Then felt I what a pitiful tame slave
Was I, who vaunted me mankind's sole queen,
The satellite of one man's wayward spleen—
The remnant of my fair, my young, my brave,
Were rent once more to forge the adamant chain
Burst by the nations, who with one accord
Shook the bright vengeance of the freeman's sword—
Another year—and the broad Rhine again
Shrouded the sceptred fugitive's pale train,
Then turned a rebel, rolled her free waves to the main.
The partners of his peril and his pride.
He, in a tyrant's mockery of my woe,
Bade me go seek them in the Scythian snow.
319
Was I, who vaunted me mankind's sole queen,
The satellite of one man's wayward spleen—
The remnant of my fair, my young, my brave,
Were rent once more to forge the adamant chain
Burst by the nations, who with one accord
Shook the bright vengeance of the freeman's sword—
Another year—and the broad Rhine again
Shrouded the sceptred fugitive's pale train,
Then turned a rebel, rolled her free waves to the main.
And now the banners of the embattled world
Their folds of vengeance on my vales unfurled.
Oh, bloody was the evening of thine ire,
Thou gorgeous comet of disastrous fire!
Their folds of vengeance on my vales unfurled.
Oh, bloody was the evening of thine ire,
Thou gorgeous comet of disastrous fire!
I wont to see, as from some quiet star,
Deluging slaughter this fair earth o'erwhelm,
On the rich bosom of my sunny realm
Gave quarry to the ravening dogs of war.
Deluging slaughter this fair earth o'erwhelm,
On the rich bosom of my sunny realm
Gave quarry to the ravening dogs of war.
But mercy shone upon the merciless!
Strong but to save and valiant but to bless,
No ruthless Cæsars clad in blood and flame,
Royal in virtue the Avengers came.
Those whom I spoiled, no spoilers came to me,
I said, ‘Be slave, O earth!’ but they—‘O France, be free.’
For yon dark Chief of woe, and guilt, and strife,
O sceptred Judges! punish him with life.
Fear not he seek with the old Roman pride,
That weakness to the noble soul allied,
To die as Cato, and as Brutus died.
Strong but to save and valiant but to bless,
No ruthless Cæsars clad in blood and flame,
Royal in virtue the Avengers came.
Those whom I spoiled, no spoilers came to me,
I said, ‘Be slave, O earth!’ but they—‘O France, be free.’
320
O sceptred Judges! punish him with life.
Fear not he seek with the old Roman pride,
That weakness to the noble soul allied,
To die as Cato, and as Brutus died.
Fear not that in his abject heart he show
That martyr fortitude, that smiles in woe.
By him shall that great secret be betrayed,
Of what poor stuff are earth's dread tyrants made.
Oh, let him live to be despised, to see
France happy, and the glorious nations free;
Death were delight to that deep misery!”—
That martyr fortitude, that smiles in woe.
By him shall that great secret be betrayed,
Of what poor stuff are earth's dread tyrants made.
Oh, let him live to be despised, to see
France happy, and the glorious nations free;
Death were delight to that deep misery!”—
Then did that kingly conclave, with one voice,
Pass the dread sentence on the gloomy man;
In his soul's icy deadness he alone
By others' woes seemed hardened to his own.
From land to land the penal tidings ran;
Earth lifted up her rich face to rejoice,
The bright blue heavens bade wintry warring cease,
And spring came dancing o'er a world at peace.
Pass the dread sentence on the gloomy man;
In his soul's icy deadness he alone
By others' woes seemed hardened to his own.
From land to land the penal tidings ran;
Earth lifted up her rich face to rejoice,
The bright blue heavens bade wintry warring cease,
And spring came dancing o'er a world at peace.
| The Poetical Works of the Rev: H. H. Milman | |