 | The Puritans |  |
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O warrior elders, guardians of the gate,
Hath the night brought your watching any word,
Or doth the dawn bear any beam of truth
To our sick minds which all the dim night's length
A flying formless rumour makes afraid,
Boding some piteous wrong at Leicester wrought?
For this have I come down to stand with you,
If haply from your outlook on the wall
We may descry what shall make end of fear.
4
Neither the night deliverance from doubt
Hath given, nor any message came with morn.
But now I see one making hitherward,
An old man and with travel sorely spent;
Yet swiftly, though scarce gladly, he comes on.
Methinks he seems as one with tidings fraught.
OLD MAN.
I know not, sirs, if I shall tell you news.
If not, full gladly were I spared my tale,
For to sad ears from sadder lips it comes.
I speak of what to Leicester hath befallen.
CHORUS.
Ay me. Speak on, for of this thing we hear
Dim rumours only: take away our doubt.
5
Nay then I give you certainty of woe.
Leicester hath fallen; yet even were that loss
A little thing and easily to be borne
But for such shameful circumstance of wrong
As never yet this bitter strife hath known.
For not as by the use of civil war,
Nor reverencing the homes of peaceful men,
Nor mindful of the bond of English blood,
But with wild lust of robber violence
Came these men on us. It was eventide,
And we were standing sadly at our doors,
Expecting they should quarter on the town,
But orderly and after warlike wont;
When suddenly all the streets were filled with noise,
And through the houses swarmed an armed horde
Harrying our homes for spoil: I barred my door
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Felled me, and long time in a swoon I lay.
Would I had never waked thereout again.
For when I rose the night was on the land,
Yet all around dimly I could perceive
Corpses of friends, and all the air was loud
With shouts of licence and fierce revelry
Mingled with groans of trampled dying men,
Or wail of ravished women and vain cries
On slaughtered sire or brother: our town was sacked:
From that one word conceive a world of woe.
Best was it then for wifeless childless men.
My lone old age I counted then for gain.
So hardly from the demons I stole forth,
And hasted hitherward: only once I looked
Back to the fair place where my home was made.
Still rose the cries from the long-tortured town,
And ever and anon where'er they rode
Ranging for rapine o'er the frightened fields,
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In sudden ruin to the windy night
Flared a wild witness of devouring fire.
MILTON.
Fire in those homes shall light a fire in hearts.
What ho firebreathing sworded seraphim,
Avenging angels, legions of the Lord,
Lo with clear voice hereon I summon you,
Join with our arms in service of your King:
On bloody men just judgment write in blood.
Enough—this last and foulest deed of wrong
Shall serve to case our souls in triple steel.
But thou, old man, I pray come hence with me
To bear thy tale to them who rule the state.
CHORUS.
Day by day with a louder lamentation
Rises England's cry to thee, O Lord;
Day by day with a fiercer indignation
Prays thy power against the thing abhorred.
Rises England's cry to thee, O Lord;
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Prays thy power against the thing abhorred.
In the hymns of the Hebrew seers
Surely, we said, they had told,
Singing to awestruck ears
Marvellous music of old,
The tale of an ancient salvation,
The pledge of a promise to be,
How he brought forth his people from Bashon,
His own from the deep of the sea.
Surely, we said, they had told,
Singing to awestruck ears
Marvellous music of old,
The tale of an ancient salvation,
The pledge of a promise to be,
How he brought forth his people from Bashon,
His own from the deep of the sea.
Surely such a God, we said, was our God,
Surely he would lean to us and hear,
Surely he would move before our armies,
Surely he was with us, he was near.
Surely he would lean to us and hear,
Surely he would move before our armies,
Surely he was with us, he was near.
Then would we waiting wearily
Speak each to each exhortingly:
Speak each to each exhortingly:
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O brothers, for he is not far from us,
But a kind lord and very piteous,
Be of good cheer to quit you manfully
Until there be an end of agony.
But a kind lord and very piteous,
Be of good cheer to quit you manfully
Until there be an end of agony.
But now for all our praying
Comes back to mock desire
A sound of sorer slaying,
A glare of fiercer fire.
Comes back to mock desire
A sound of sorer slaying,
A glare of fiercer fire.
My soul, why searchest thou the signs of old?
Have not we too our story of the seas?
Have we forgot how our own sires were bold,
Sprung from their loins and nursed upon their knees?
Have not we too our story of the seas?
Have we forgot how our own sires were bold,
Sprung from their loins and nursed upon their knees?
Though we forgat yet should not they forget,
The folk of fair Granada and Castile,
Whose widows mourn the tyrants' madness yet
Who to their woe made war against our weal;
When on England came the kings
Lusting for unlawful things,
When with hearts and hands of flame
Aragon and Parma came;
But our God who willed it so
Smiled in scorn upon the foe
When the stately ships of Spain
Felt the tyrannous tempest blow
And the swordsmen in their pain
Smote their swords upon the deck;
Splintered hull and shattered sail
Drave before the giant gale
Reeling on, a royal wreck,
Dashed upon the island coast
Deadly to the foemen's host.
The folk of fair Granada and Castile,
Whose widows mourn the tyrants' madness yet
Who to their woe made war against our weal;
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Lusting for unlawful things,
When with hearts and hands of flame
Aragon and Parma came;
But our God who willed it so
Smiled in scorn upon the foe
When the stately ships of Spain
Felt the tyrannous tempest blow
And the swordsmen in their pain
Smote their swords upon the deck;
Splintered hull and shattered sail
Drave before the giant gale
Reeling on, a royal wreck,
Dashed upon the island coast
Deadly to the foemen's host.
But now, O land beloved, thy light is low,
And thy hand falters and thy feet are slow;
It is because thy heart is torn within,
And evil sons have sold thee to the foe,
And thou hast not yet quite cast out their sin.
And now the children of the sea
Who struck so well for liberty
May scarcely dare to call them free.
For this thing England cries to thee,
O God, to help her misery.
And thy hand falters and thy feet are slow;
It is because thy heart is torn within,
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And thou hast not yet quite cast out their sin.
And now the children of the sea
Who struck so well for liberty
May scarcely dare to call them free.
For this thing England cries to thee,
O God, to help her misery.
Bethink thee remember her story,
It is written full large for all,
Her great preeminent glory,
Her shameful and horrible fall.
How long shall her cry before heaven
Go up to startle the sun?
When shall her sin be forgiven?
When shall her anguish be done?
For the tyrants assembled upbraid her,
And the hand of the spoiler is strong:
Make haste, O Avenger, to aid her,
Make haste, for thou tarriest long.
It is written full large for all,
Her great preeminent glory,
Her shameful and horrible fall.
How long shall her cry before heaven
Go up to startle the sun?
When shall her sin be forgiven?
When shall her anguish be done?
For the tyrants assembled upbraid her,
And the hand of the spoiler is strong:
12
Make haste, for thou tarriest long.
MILTON.
Friends, one more blow hath fallen upon our heads.
Yet to this war we went not as to sport.
Let this last wrong but steel our hearts the more
For the sore struggle, and therewith found we firm
Our fortress of sure faith against the waves,
Nor through much grief let slip the undying hopes
Whereof shall no ill fortune leave us lorn.
CHORUS.
What hopes, if that one hope of war be lost?
MILTON.
This first, that in that cause wherein we fight
Fight also Justice and all conquering Time.
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Fruitlessly, and defeat make dark our day,
Yet be assured who strives to crush our cause
Strives not with us but with a Power unseen
Whereto shall witness not one age alone.
Ay rather far, I ween, shall one prevail
To change the ancient courses of the stars,
Or from his steep course turn the lordly sun;
Only this Power he shall not woo with gifts,
Nor find a spell to stay his sovereignty.
Wherefore though herein fortune work her worst,
Howbeit haply we have desired ourselves
To know the blessed birth of Liberty
Too early, and our unseasonable age
Be held unworthy of so fair a flower,
(And verily ever in each great emprize
The sower reaps not also oftentimes,
And sweetest fruit is bought with holiest blood)
Yet toil we now as patient pioneers,
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Content that we should die, and age on age
Roll on, till God's high purpose be revealed;
Till this thick night wherein we look and long,
Wistfully watching where faint streaks half-seen
Glimmer, and fitfully foretell the dawn—
This dreary darkness dim with flying dreams
Shall flee far off, and men's expectant eyes
Look up at last to the free firmament
Glad in the golden marvel of the morn.
Thereto God's labourers labour even now
Each in his day, till in that gracious time
Gross lusts and gross discernings such as now
Breed baleful pestilence in homes of men
Be purged away, and many an ancient foe
That waged long feud in wasteful rivalry
Shall then with new-won wisdom either way
Make oath of reconcilement evermore.
Then Freedom shall be one with Loyalty
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Emancipate from fettering falsities,
Shall render duly to Love paramount,
Servant not slave, the service of the free.
CHORUS.
Fair hopes are these and answering to our prayers.
But that melodious message of sure faith
And sweet sound of propitious prophecy
May scarcely in this iron age of ours
Win credent audience mid the clash of arms,
A tuneless noise and louder than the lyre.
And therewithal needs must we have sore fear
Lest in the stormy surging of our strife
And angry clamour and pushing to and fro
And slaying of kindred and intestine war
Shall this fair Love whose kingdom is foretold,
Sickened with savour of blood-rusted arms,
Stand sadly off, and to a happier air
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Tired out with waiting among loveless men.
MILTON.
Love in his tireless labour grows not old.
He works among us when we know him not.
Yea though he wear sometimes the mask of hate,
(So must it be, for from the love of good
Hatred of evil who shall separate?)
Yet when the lurid clouds of combat clear,
What time he feed upon his proper air
And bathe his pinions in the golden light,
Then shall his glory beam upon his brows,
And his stern helm that frowned upon the fray
Shall presently in a kindlier clime of peace
Melt to the soft rays of a starry crown.
He works among us when we know him not.
Yea though he wear sometimes the mask of hate,
(So must it be, for from the love of good
Hatred of evil who shall separate?)
Yet when the lurid clouds of combat clear,
What time he feed upon his proper air
And bathe his pinions in the golden light,
Then shall his glory beam upon his brows,
And his stern helm that frowned upon the fray
Shall presently in a kindlier clime of peace
Melt to the soft rays of a starry crown.
Thus far I speak the hopes of all the world.
But yet with smaller shafts my soul is armed
Of nearer import to ourselves to-day.
Albeit this war had end as worst it might,
And even now the king had burst our gates,
And we still lived (which thing God's grace forbid)
To see the cause lost and the land enslaved—
If one shall see the abominable thing
Still living, and deem that he has known on earth
Enough, having known the ruin of this cause,
Yet in that last most sore necessity
Let him go down unto the barren sea,
And there take ship, and call once more on fate
To bear him westward on a saving wind.
So shall he come unto no alien race,
But to near kindred both of flesh and soul,
The brothers of our fathers, those brave hearts
Whereat our childhood marvelled reverently,
Hearing the tale, how in the winter wild
On the great sea their little boat went forth,
The Mayflower, but no balmy breeze of May
Soothed her with nurture suiting her spring-name,
No, but the black Northeaster tost her long
Amid the rolling mountains of the main.
Also when hardly from the hungry sea
They gat them to the inhospitable shore,
Full many days beneath the thickening snow
And breath of icebergs blown from Labrador,
Among their dying children, dying wives,
The lonely men made stand against their doom.
Then in the third year, even in the grasp of death,
They overcame, and the earth gave them fruit:
So reaped they scanty harvest, thanking God,
And built a little town in that far land:
But wrestling ever with the stubborn soil,
And vext by stealthy arrows of red men,
Not yet were quit of travail and sore pain.
Yea and thenceforward many a grievous year
Often, I ween, in pauses of their toil,
What time the young-eyed morning smote the sea,
Or when the sun sank to his unknown grave,
Incoming or forthgoing would they turn
Sad gaze across the sea, and sigh for home;
Yet swerved not so from their severe emprize,
Bating no jot, till in their need was born
Hope, the fair child of faith and faithful toil.
And in their sombre sky a guiding star
New-risen, of kindlier omen, leads them now
From wonder unto wonder on and on:
Whether in wanderings southward o'er broad plains
Ne'er trod but by the browsing buffalo,
Or the stray simple children of the soil,
Choctaws and Cherokees, a homeless host,
Even to the land of summer are they spread
And flowery margent of a sunny sea:
Or elsewhere northward by the inland coasts
Of Huron and his fellows fix their home,
Strange seas, and unaware of ocean-brine;
Or the great river follow in his flow,
Who eastward as he rolls eternally
From Erie to Ontario travelling on
Sheer o'er the verge of Niagara's gulf
Heaves his precipitate bulk in thunder down.
So everywhere they move and multiply,
A people called and chosen of the Lord.
But yet with smaller shafts my soul is armed
Of nearer import to ourselves to-day.
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And even now the king had burst our gates,
And we still lived (which thing God's grace forbid)
To see the cause lost and the land enslaved—
If one shall see the abominable thing
Still living, and deem that he has known on earth
Enough, having known the ruin of this cause,
Yet in that last most sore necessity
Let him go down unto the barren sea,
And there take ship, and call once more on fate
To bear him westward on a saving wind.
So shall he come unto no alien race,
But to near kindred both of flesh and soul,
The brothers of our fathers, those brave hearts
Whereat our childhood marvelled reverently,
Hearing the tale, how in the winter wild
On the great sea their little boat went forth,
The Mayflower, but no balmy breeze of May
Soothed her with nurture suiting her spring-name,
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Amid the rolling mountains of the main.
Also when hardly from the hungry sea
They gat them to the inhospitable shore,
Full many days beneath the thickening snow
And breath of icebergs blown from Labrador,
Among their dying children, dying wives,
The lonely men made stand against their doom.
Then in the third year, even in the grasp of death,
They overcame, and the earth gave them fruit:
So reaped they scanty harvest, thanking God,
And built a little town in that far land:
But wrestling ever with the stubborn soil,
And vext by stealthy arrows of red men,
Not yet were quit of travail and sore pain.
Yea and thenceforward many a grievous year
Often, I ween, in pauses of their toil,
What time the young-eyed morning smote the sea,
Or when the sun sank to his unknown grave,
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Sad gaze across the sea, and sigh for home;
Yet swerved not so from their severe emprize,
Bating no jot, till in their need was born
Hope, the fair child of faith and faithful toil.
And in their sombre sky a guiding star
New-risen, of kindlier omen, leads them now
From wonder unto wonder on and on:
Whether in wanderings southward o'er broad plains
Ne'er trod but by the browsing buffalo,
Or the stray simple children of the soil,
Choctaws and Cherokees, a homeless host,
Even to the land of summer are they spread
And flowery margent of a sunny sea:
Or elsewhere northward by the inland coasts
Of Huron and his fellows fix their home,
Strange seas, and unaware of ocean-brine;
Or the great river follow in his flow,
Who eastward as he rolls eternally
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Sheer o'er the verge of Niagara's gulf
Heaves his precipitate bulk in thunder down.
So everywhere they move and multiply,
A people called and chosen of the Lord.
CHORUS.
Fain would their feet have stayed
In the home of their fathers of old;
But they waited and none would aid,
They wondered that none would uphold.
Then they arose at the last,
They set their faces to go,
Spread the sail to the bending mast,
Bade the Eastwind blow.
In the home of their fathers of old;
But they waited and none would aid,
They wondered that none would uphold.
Then they arose at the last,
They set their faces to go,
Spread the sail to the bending mast,
Bade the Eastwind blow.
The gloom of an evil night
Had turned their faces away,
Too much wrong for the right,
Too much dark for the day;
So dark a shade on their English home
That better it seemed to be
To run with the crests of the racing foam,
And ride on the reinless sea.
Had turned their faces away,
Too much wrong for the right,
Too much dark for the day;
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That better it seemed to be
To run with the crests of the racing foam,
And ride on the reinless sea.
Yet not the less from that seed sown in woe,
Stern woe but sterner purpose of strong men,
Shall there sometime large fruit of gladness grow
To tell the world what God was working then.
Now beneath the setting sun
Far away their zeal hath won
A fairer fate in a freër land
Glad to greet the stranger band,
There where inviolate nature's face is fair
With sweeter seasons and a larger air,
There where the strength of ancient rivers rolls
Through teeming realms no sceptred king controls
Nor ever foot of restless man hath trod
Since first they grew beneath the breath of God
Who in that place prepared from long ago
For the young eagle of his choice a nest,
Wherein for some great work to make him grow
And crown him with the crowns of all the West.
Stern woe but sterner purpose of strong men,
Shall there sometime large fruit of gladness grow
To tell the world what God was working then.
Now beneath the setting sun
Far away their zeal hath won
A fairer fate in a freër land
Glad to greet the stranger band,
There where inviolate nature's face is fair
With sweeter seasons and a larger air,
There where the strength of ancient rivers rolls
Through teeming realms no sceptred king controls
Nor ever foot of restless man hath trod
Since first they grew beneath the breath of God
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For the young eagle of his choice a nest,
Wherein for some great work to make him grow
And crown him with the crowns of all the West.
O sons of our old friends that shall be born
To that fair heritage beyond the sea,
How hath there risen upon mine eyes forlorn
Presage and hope of all your praise to be.
For lo the Lord hath loved you,
He hath helped his own from ill,
He hath given his own a vineyard
In a very fruitful hill.
From all the old world's evil,
From the baffled hosts of hell
We charge you by your birth-right
Look that ye guard it well.
O if there spring to prove you
What time ye deem you strong
Some treason of a tyranny,
Some bitter root of wrong,
The God who fights for freedom
Strengthen your hearts that day
To pluck the poison from you
And cut the curse away.
So from that propitious place
Ever to the elder race
Flash us back a cheering flame
From a beacon still the same,
From a strong and steadfast star,
Both to us and all that are
Here across the sundering sea
Linked in love of liberty,
Each to each with honour paid,
With kindly welcome and kindly aid,
Brother to brother, afar.
To that fair heritage beyond the sea,
How hath there risen upon mine eyes forlorn
Presage and hope of all your praise to be.
For lo the Lord hath loved you,
He hath helped his own from ill,
He hath given his own a vineyard
In a very fruitful hill.
From all the old world's evil,
From the baffled hosts of hell
We charge you by your birth-right
Look that ye guard it well.
O if there spring to prove you
What time ye deem you strong
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Some bitter root of wrong,
The God who fights for freedom
Strengthen your hearts that day
To pluck the poison from you
And cut the curse away.
So from that propitious place
Ever to the elder race
Flash us back a cheering flame
From a beacon still the same,
From a strong and steadfast star,
Both to us and all that are
Here across the sundering sea
Linked in love of liberty,
Each to each with honour paid,
With kindly welcome and kindly aid,
Brother to brother, afar.
Yea for what though your western land be fair
And wider woods and huger hills be there
And kindlier influence of a brighter heaven,
Yet have we larger claims upon your love
By right of that first gift of freedom given
All other gifts and other gains above.
Such inheritance for you
Hence from us your fathers drew;
This we handed on to them
As a king his diadem;
Or as when the lord of a liberal house
At the marriage-feast of his child takes up
The glowing gold of a carven cup
Made merry within with the red wine's foam,
And pledges and gives it his daughter's spouse
A present of price from home to home.
And wider woods and huger hills be there
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Yet have we larger claims upon your love
By right of that first gift of freedom given
All other gifts and other gains above.
Such inheritance for you
Hence from us your fathers drew;
This we handed on to them
As a king his diadem;
Or as when the lord of a liberal house
At the marriage-feast of his child takes up
The glowing gold of a carven cup
Made merry within with the red wine's foam,
And pledges and gives it his daughter's spouse
A present of price from home to home.
ENVOY.
Ho ye who guard this rebel city's gate
Open with speed and lead me to your lords,
For I am charged with message from the King.
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Tell us thy charge: no envoy from the King
Enters this gate; so wills the Parliament
Since the foul tale of Leicester hurt their ears.
But one of us shall bear thy message hence;
Thy work is made the lighter by so far.
ENVOY.
This is new insult to our gracious King.
So be it: I leave my message with small care
Whether ye like the terms I bring or no:
If not, 'tis but to your own hurt the more.
The King, by this doubtless your host o'erthrown,
Once more demands this rebel city's keys.
Refuse, then London fares as Leicester fared.
This is the last time he will treat—beware.
Our king is gracious being sought in time,
But being often chafed he shall not spare
From vengeance, nor shall bear the sword in vain.
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Thee we defy and thine unrighteous king,
Unrighteous and ungenerous and untrue.
Nay, did we deign to take his terms to-day,
What surety should he give us for our faith?
How often hath his fear made him forsworn,
Ay, left his friends for death to disappoint,
How often dragged his ermine through the dust
In most unkingly cruelty of wrong.
The blood of Eliot crying from the tomb
Of his dark dungeon is not silent yet:
Often, I ween, in slumbers of the king
Shall that great shade to his admonishment
Rise in his dreams and fright him with a frown.
Ay and with him a crowd of much-wronged men
Bearing dread witness of unholy wrong,
Even to this latest sin of Leicester's sack.
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Thou railest still: yet shall thy time be short.
MILTON.
Too long already drags this bitter strife.
ENVOY.
Too long the realm is troubled with your rage.
MILTON.
For Revolution is own child of Wrong.
ENVOY.
Alas for outraged thrones and sceptres spurned.
MILTON.
Alas for broken laws and oaths forgot.
ENVOY.
O splendid state of God-commissioned kings.
MILTON.
O impious mockery of God-aping fools.
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Expect in fear the coming of your king.
MILTON.
Our king is Christ: his people know not fear.
ENVOY.
Nay, but we fight with priests upon our side.
MILTON.
Their God the world, just men their sacrifice.
ENVOY.
Enough, I go: your blood be on your heads.
MILTON.
Trust us for this: blood shall be bought with blood.
So let him go: he thinks he goes to find
Our foes in triumph over new-won spoil,
And bring them back in fury on our town.
29
The king hath something yet that he must do
Before he sit him down to make us laws;
And even by this perchance he may have met
One in whose hand is that shall speak anon
Somewhat too rudely in the royal ear.
For when I led the old man to the House
Good news I learnt: the late-made ordinance
Is so far set aside that from this time
For forty days shall Cromwell lead the horse;
And with the noble Fairfax is he gone
To find the king and fight him with all speed.
This was the other hope I had for you.
CHORUS.
Good news indeed and full of saving cheer.
MILTON.
Meet is it in that hope we have good trust:
For there is none shall bring us better aid
Than this same iron Oliver whom ye know;
A man of stormful elements compact
Attempered to a giant harmony;
Not fair and smooth in body or in speech,
Not eloquent with the eloquence of words,
Yet his right hand speaks terrible things to men;
A mighty warrior, yet no friend of war,
Nor anywise in confusion hath his joy,
But in fair peace and ordered liberty.
Lo now I know that many mouth of him
As scarce of single purpose in the cause.
Now as one long time watchful to discern
The nature and the meaning of the man
I think to bear true witness for my friend
Against the cautions doubt, the envious lie.
For this was ever strongest in his blood;
Where'er he saw the vice of tyranny
His heart was kindled with no doubtful fire
And vehement will to strike the oppressor down
And crush his noxious life out in the dust
Making him nothing; nor was this, God wot,
A passion like to fade from out his soul,
Who everywhere through the England of his love
Saw the foul signs of rottenness and wrong.
Yea oftentimes when haply we looked forth
Upon a summer evening on the fields
Of this fair England, and the brooding shade
Of large-armed trees, and waving wealth of corn,
It hath not brought him smiling, nay but tears,
Nay rather sad tears from a bleeding heart
For the fair land so foully violate
That all her beauty turns to bitterness
And there is no more gladness in her weal.
For there is none shall bring us better aid
30
A man of stormful elements compact
Attempered to a giant harmony;
Not fair and smooth in body or in speech,
Not eloquent with the eloquence of words,
Yet his right hand speaks terrible things to men;
A mighty warrior, yet no friend of war,
Nor anywise in confusion hath his joy,
But in fair peace and ordered liberty.
Lo now I know that many mouth of him
As scarce of single purpose in the cause.
Now as one long time watchful to discern
The nature and the meaning of the man
I think to bear true witness for my friend
Against the cautions doubt, the envious lie.
For this was ever strongest in his blood;
Where'er he saw the vice of tyranny
His heart was kindled with no doubtful fire
And vehement will to strike the oppressor down
31
Making him nothing; nor was this, God wot,
A passion like to fade from out his soul,
Who everywhere through the England of his love
Saw the foul signs of rottenness and wrong.
Yea oftentimes when haply we looked forth
Upon a summer evening on the fields
Of this fair England, and the brooding shade
Of large-armed trees, and waving wealth of corn,
It hath not brought him smiling, nay but tears,
Nay rather sad tears from a bleeding heart
For the fair land so foully violate
That all her beauty turns to bitterness
And there is no more gladness in her weal.
But how with the other four in Parliament
He stood to bear the brunt of the king's rage
All saw full plainly, and how since war began
He made a light shine suddenly in the East,
And from his first appearing until now
He hath prevailed, and armies of the king
Look fearfully when they hear that Cromwell comes.
This man whate'er befall I think to trust
As a strong man and true to his life's end.
Nor know I any who should more avail
In this tempestuous season of our stars
To heave the straining vessel of the state
From the dire quicksands closing round her keel
And with Titanic impulse thrust her forth
To sail anew with happier pilotage
To fairer havens on serener seas.
He stood to bear the brunt of the king's rage
All saw full plainly, and how since war began
He made a light shine suddenly in the East,
32
He hath prevailed, and armies of the king
Look fearfully when they hear that Cromwell comes.
This man whate'er befall I think to trust
As a strong man and true to his life's end.
Nor know I any who should more avail
In this tempestuous season of our stars
To heave the straining vessel of the state
From the dire quicksands closing round her keel
And with Titanic impulse thrust her forth
To sail anew with happier pilotage
To fairer havens on serener seas.
Also ye know the men that ride with him,
Even whom he chose, the best of England's best,
Strong saints of God, invincible Ironsides,
Whom never yet hath any known to flee,
Nor shall, while God and Cromwell lead them on.
Now would I call such men with such a chief
England's stout heart made hot with holy fire.
Sore shame it were if we should droop our hopes
While these still ride together to the war.
Even whom he chose, the best of England's best,
Strong saints of God, invincible Ironsides,
Whom never yet hath any known to flee,
Nor shall, while God and Cromwell lead them on.
Now would I call such men with such a chief
33
Sore shame it were if we should droop our hopes
While these still ride together to the war.
CHORUS.
Thy words and that great name have somewhat stilled
The fire which gnawed but now upon my soul:
But ever in my breast the bounding blood
Holds yet wild revel; neither art thou, O friend,
By thine eyes' witness, from such fever free.
MILTON.
Friends, all my heart is swoln with hope and fear.
For presently in the issue of this act
A weighty sentence is there like to fall
This way or that, for evil or for good.
For we are fallen upon a teeming time
And big with mightier offspring than ourselves.
I think that here within this little isle
The fate which deals to every age a lot
34
That war is waged which makes or mars the world.
For not one time or by one voice alone
The grace of God to this our Christian world
Hath cried aloud that we should make us free.
For when the inrushing of the violent North
Startled the slumberers round the southern sea,
Breaking their sleep beneath the eagle's wing—
A dying eagle and a sleep of shame—
Then from the tumult grew to meet their needs
An order of disorder, lawless law;
And men were sundered, these for war or sport,
Those serfs, fast bound in slavery to the soil.
Yet by slow steps the people drew to power:
Then speediest when their craftsmen banded them
Fenced by strong walls and gathering gold and arms.
Also the mild might of the bleeding Cross,
And love of his dear name who loved the poor,
Wrought ever stealing subtilly and well
35
Shaming the strong to set his bondsmen free.
And here and there through that bewildered world
Some champion rose to snap the feudal chain:
Not only those fierce cities of the south,
Whereof he came who sang the threefold realm,
(He first, but many other masters wise
Of song or art—such fruit is of the free—)
Not only these uplifted on the front
Of their proud towers a fiery liberty,
Until its fitful splendour sank in blood;
But the strong living light unquenchable,
Northward upleaping o'er the snow-robed wall,
On Uri's heights alighting shone again
Steadier and purer in the Alpine air.
Nor failed our isle to labour in her lot
Curbing her kings with stubborn temperance;
Howbeit the fuller freedom slept till now.
Also the low shores of the Flemish seas
36
And travail of a glorious birth to be.
And to one end full many causes wrought.
Yet as the longed-for light came slowly on
So also fiercer grew the powers of night,
Frenzied with fear to see the dawn draw nigh.
And now long time the perjured priests of Christ
Had learnt to sell their master's trust for gold,
And, making hideous the most holy name
With their foul lies and sordid slavery,
Leagued them with tyrants and forswore their Lord.
And sometimes one would rise with warning words,
Wicliffe or Huss or the stern Florentine
Who saw the great sword hanging in the sky;
These and their like who served a God of truth,
To whom a lie seemed lothlier than death,
These in the unkindly twilight of the world
Fought their long fight unaided and alone,
Unhonoured, unbefriended, by no king
37
Nay rather mocked and murdered like their Lord,
Yet not in vain, such might hath martyr's blood
Speaking in death and feeding sacred fires.
I trow our own sires saw a brighter blaze.
Ay in their sight an age most marvellous
Was risen indeed upon the startled earth.
For now bold men seeking a freër light
The faith of Christ had purified from shame,
And with strange violence had shaken sore
The ancient honour of the Roman hills:
And now the strength of cities conjurate
Had risen in arms against injurious lords,
And all the kings were wroth; and in that cause
The armaments of angry Aragon
Swept from the South and darkened all the sea.
Whom how we brake, Europe not soon forgets.
No other cause we deem our cause to-day:
Wherefore herein, whether we live or die,
38
To make our name a name of loving cheer
To all the friends of freedom evermore.
CHORUS.
Lo through ages onward gliding
In itself its secret hiding
Runs the fated race,
As a woman dumb with daring
In her breast her infant bearing—
None hath seen his face.
In itself its secret hiding
Runs the fated race,
As a woman dumb with daring
In her breast her infant bearing—
None hath seen his face.
Through the unknown waste of wonders
On and on she goes,
O'er her head the breaking thunders,
Round her angry foes.
Many waters shall not drown her,
No, nor storms dismay:
There is one that waits to crown her
Somewhere far away.
The sweet strange breeze of hope
From that far country blown
Presages ampler scope
For souls more glorious grown.
On and on she goes,
O'er her head the breaking thunders,
Round her angry foes.
Many waters shall not drown her,
No, nor storms dismay:
There is one that waits to crown her
Somewhere far away.
39
From that far country blown
Presages ampler scope
For souls more glorious grown.
Altars whose fires are cold,
Temples whose gods grow old,
Yield place to fairer built upon their fall,
When Truth his youngest daughter
Shall tell what Time hath taught her,
Fair Truth and Love her mate, young Love the lord of all.
Temples whose gods grow old,
Yield place to fairer built upon their fall,
When Truth his youngest daughter
Shall tell what Time hath taught her,
Fair Truth and Love her mate, young Love the lord of all.
One love the world shall fill
And wide and wider still
From side to side from end to end dilate,
Each as he lives made one
With father and with son,
In conscious larger life for aye incorporate.
And wide and wider still
From side to side from end to end dilate,
Each as he lives made one
With father and with son,
In conscious larger life for aye incorporate.
40
What art thou then, O man,
Born for so brief a span?
Count not so dear thy pleasure or thy pain:
The embers aye are red,
The old fire is not dead;
Thou in an ampler age shalt work and win again.
Born for so brief a span?
Count not so dear thy pleasure or thy pain:
The embers aye are red,
The old fire is not dead;
Thou in an ampler age shalt work and win again.
Fear not thy single soul
Shall sink to serve the whole;
Who more hath loved he also lives the more:
Each strain of generous strife
Lifts thee to fuller life;
Love lends thee wings and winds to gain the longed-for shore.
Shall sink to serve the whole;
Who more hath loved he also lives the more:
Each strain of generous strife
Lifts thee to fuller life;
Love lends thee wings and winds to gain the longed-for shore.
Art thou expecting long
The Christ to crush the wrong?
Lo he that talketh with thee this is he.
Awake arise and do,
We have our triumphs too,
Nor we nor they alone but all in unity.
The Christ to crush the wrong?
Lo he that talketh with thee this is he.
41
We have our triumphs too,
Nor we nor they alone but all in unity.
For with sifting and blending,
With weaving and rending
The truth is made plain:
And still with our learning
The dreams of our yearning
More nobly returning
Shall cheer us again;
And sorrow from sorrow
A meaning shall borrow
To mould the to-morrow
A goodlier day,
And shaded with sadness
Brief glimpses of gladness
Shall lighten our way.
With surer appealing
To lordlier laws,
With ampler revealing
Of cause behind cause,
Each new height unveiling
New heights for our scaling,
Old heights we have clomb,
With striving and failing,
With triumph and wailing
The spirit prevailing
Shall spring to her home.
With weaving and rending
The truth is made plain:
And still with our learning
The dreams of our yearning
More nobly returning
Shall cheer us again;
And sorrow from sorrow
A meaning shall borrow
To mould the to-morrow
A goodlier day,
And shaded with sadness
Brief glimpses of gladness
Shall lighten our way.
With surer appealing
42
With ampler revealing
Of cause behind cause,
Each new height unveiling
New heights for our scaling,
Old heights we have clomb,
With striving and failing,
With triumph and wailing
The spirit prevailing
Shall spring to her home.
MESSENGER.
Hail friends and glorify our fathers' God;
For he hath given the battle to our hands.
MILTON.
Glory to God. Speak; tell us all the joy.
43
Not long I tarry; hear the tale in brief.
Long following on the footsteps of the king
Last night but one we brought his host to bay.
Our camp was pitched beside a little town,
Naseby; a broad plain lay between the hosts.
So all the night we waited for the fray.
But when the morning found us face to face
A sudden trumpet set the field on fire
With bared and brandished steel athwart the sun.
For either side the horsemen on the right,
Cromwell's for us, Rupert's for them, sped well,
And burst the opposing ranks and beat them down.
But in the centre Fairfax and the king
Long time in equal battle strove and strained.
Then Rupert's squadrons wheeled from the pursuit,
And made again at us: with wild cries they charged
And tossing plumes and loose hair on the wind
And gorgeous blazonry of chivalric arms,
A storm of knights: but there were those who turned
On the other side, the invincible Ironsides,
To meet them; like a storm-fraught cloud they came
Edged with a lurid lightning of set steel,
And at their head grim-helmëd Oliver,
God in his flaming eyes, rode thunderous on.
Then came a crash and cry that rang to heaven;
And for some space the seething battle swayed
This way and that with heaving to and fro;
But everywhere the soldiers of the king
Beneath the pikes and swords of Ironsides
Sank from their saddles: Rupert's chivalry
Brake sundered, and their chief spurred forth in flight.
And therewithal the centre round the king
Brake also, and he with all his routed host
In one wild wave fled far across the fields;
And far and long our horsemen followed them.
Then night came down and made an end of blood,
Night on the land, and night in our foes' hearts:
For when that day died the king's hopes were dead.
Long following on the footsteps of the king
Last night but one we brought his host to bay.
Our camp was pitched beside a little town,
Naseby; a broad plain lay between the hosts.
So all the night we waited for the fray.
But when the morning found us face to face
A sudden trumpet set the field on fire
With bared and brandished steel athwart the sun.
For either side the horsemen on the right,
Cromwell's for us, Rupert's for them, sped well,
And burst the opposing ranks and beat them down.
But in the centre Fairfax and the king
Long time in equal battle strove and strained.
Then Rupert's squadrons wheeled from the pursuit,
And made again at us: with wild cries they charged
And tossing plumes and loose hair on the wind
And gorgeous blazonry of chivalric arms,
44
On the other side, the invincible Ironsides,
To meet them; like a storm-fraught cloud they came
Edged with a lurid lightning of set steel,
And at their head grim-helmëd Oliver,
God in his flaming eyes, rode thunderous on.
Then came a crash and cry that rang to heaven;
And for some space the seething battle swayed
This way and that with heaving to and fro;
But everywhere the soldiers of the king
Beneath the pikes and swords of Ironsides
Sank from their saddles: Rupert's chivalry
Brake sundered, and their chief spurred forth in flight.
And therewithal the centre round the king
Brake also, and he with all his routed host
In one wild wave fled far across the fields;
And far and long our horsemen followed them.
45
Night on the land, and night in our foes' hearts:
For when that day died the king's hopes were dead.
But straightway to the House I must be gone,
For I have brought them letters from the chiefs.
For I have brought them letters from the chiefs.
CHORUS.
They called it, they keep it,
The curse and the gloom:
They sowed it, they reap it,
The whirlwind of doom.
For a vengeance unlooked for had found them
In the noise of the battle alarms,
For the chosen of God were around them
In the splendour of terrible arms.
The old thing, the new thing
In battle were met:
God helpeth the true thing,
He doth not forget.
Lo now, proud town with eager reverence yearning,
Them who went forth in season of our pain
With other hearts with other hopes returning
Soon shall thy glad gates welcome once again.
Then along the shouting street
Flowers shall fall before their feet,
While the sun of triumph shines
Gladly on the laurelled lines;
But chiefest shall they praise the might
Of him who rode upon the right,
Him whose red and ruinous hand
Blazed before his iron band:
So the while about his way
Man to man shall speak and say:
“Who is this that leads the long procession
Girded terribly with victorious sword,
Breaker of the bondage of oppression,
Leader of the armies of the Lord?
Who? for he it may not be,
Chief of Hebrew chivalry,
Royal David, no, nor he,
The strength of Samson, who long since in the far East
Hath from his labours ceased,
Sleeping well with them he slew
When the Dagon-trumpets blew.”
Not these but like to these the man we know;
And as that man the men who fought by him;
Wherefore the fame of that brave fight shall grow
To more and more, nor in far times wax dim.
The curse and the gloom:
They sowed it, they reap it,
The whirlwind of doom.
For a vengeance unlooked for had found them
In the noise of the battle alarms,
For the chosen of God were around them
In the splendour of terrible arms.
The old thing, the new thing
In battle were met:
God helpeth the true thing,
He doth not forget.
46
Them who went forth in season of our pain
With other hearts with other hopes returning
Soon shall thy glad gates welcome once again.
Then along the shouting street
Flowers shall fall before their feet,
While the sun of triumph shines
Gladly on the laurelled lines;
But chiefest shall they praise the might
Of him who rode upon the right,
Him whose red and ruinous hand
Blazed before his iron band:
So the while about his way
Man to man shall speak and say:
“Who is this that leads the long procession
Girded terribly with victorious sword,
Breaker of the bondage of oppression,
Leader of the armies of the Lord?
Who? for he it may not be,
47
Royal David, no, nor he,
The strength of Samson, who long since in the far East
Hath from his labours ceased,
Sleeping well with them he slew
When the Dagon-trumpets blew.”
Not these but like to these the man we know;
And as that man the men who fought by him;
Wherefore the fame of that brave fight shall grow
To more and more, nor in far times wax dim.
Yea though we and ours and all our toiling
Turn to nothing, fade from under heaven,
Deeds that even in dead worlds are deathless—
These at least one splendid hour hath given.
Yea though as we speak come fate upon us,
Blast with lightning, sink us in the sea,
This at least a memory eternal
Crowns for ever foreheads of the free.
Surely now our God hath been among us;
(He whose eyes are clear shall understand;)
Scarce more plain, methinks, the vision granted
Long ago, there in the chosen land.
When of old the prophet watching lonely,
Some Esaias or Ezekiel,
Heard him thunder by the streams of Chebar,
Waited long the Lord of Israel;
Saw the heavens break and blaze about him,
Heard the rushing of the awful air,
Felt far off the presence of Jehovah,
Knew that now indeed his God was there;
Saw the lion's mane, the eagle's plumage,
Bird and beast commingled under him,
Saw the everlasting arms incarnate
Shadow all the flying cherubim.
Turn to nothing, fade from under heaven,
Deeds that even in dead worlds are deathless—
These at least one splendid hour hath given.
Yea though as we speak come fate upon us,
Blast with lightning, sink us in the sea,
This at least a memory eternal
48
Surely now our God hath been among us;
(He whose eyes are clear shall understand;)
Scarce more plain, methinks, the vision granted
Long ago, there in the chosen land.
When of old the prophet watching lonely,
Some Esaias or Ezekiel,
Heard him thunder by the streams of Chebar,
Waited long the Lord of Israel;
Saw the heavens break and blaze about him,
Heard the rushing of the awful air,
Felt far off the presence of Jehovah,
Knew that now indeed his God was there;
Saw the lion's mane, the eagle's plumage,
Bird and beast commingled under him,
Saw the everlasting arms incarnate
Shadow all the flying cherubim.
THE END.
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