"Princes, I am but as a voice; be you28
As deeds! The wind comes through the hollow oak,
And stirs the green woods that it wanders through,
Now wafts the seeds, now wings the levin-stroke,
Now kindles, now destroys:—that Wind am I,
Homeless on earth; the mystery of the sky!
"But when the wind in noiseless air hath sunk,29
Behold the sower tends and rears the seeds;
Behold the woodman shapes the fallen trunk;
The viewless voice hath waked the human deeds;
Born of the germs, flowers bloom and harvests spring;
The pine uprooted speeds the Ocean King.
"Warriors, since absent (not from wanton lust30
Of errant emprize, but by Fate ordain'd,
For all lone labouring, worthy of his trust)
He whose young lips in thirst of glory drain'd
All that of arts Mavortian elder Rome
Taught, to assail the foe, or guard the home;
"Be ye his delegates, and oft with prayer31
Bring angels round his wild and venturous way;
As one great orb gives life and light to air,
So times there are when all a people's day
Shines from a single life! This known, revere
The exile; mourn not—let his soul be here.
"Yours then, high chiefs, the conduct of the war,32
But heed this counsel (won or wrung from Fate),
Strong rolls the tide when curb'd its channels are,
Strong flows a force that but defends a state;
In Carduel's walls concentre Cymri's power,
And chain the Dragon to this charmèd tower.
"This night the moon should see the beacon brand33
Link fire to fire from Beli's Druid pile;
Rock call on rock, till blazes all the land
From Sabra's wave to Mona's parent isle!
Let Fredom write in characters of fire,
'Who climbs my throne ascends his funeral pyre!'"
The Prophet ceased; and rose with stern accord34
The warrior senate. Sudden every shield
Leapt into lightning from the clashing sword;
And choral voices consentaneous peal'd—
"Hail to our guests! the wine of war is red;
Fire fight the banquet—steel prepare the bed!"
While thus the peril threat'ning land and throne,35
Unharm'd, unheeding, dreaming goes the King,
Where from the brief Elysium, Acheron
Awaits the victim whom its priest shall bring.
And where art thou, meek guardian of the brave?
Though fails the eagle, still the dove may save!
When, lured by signs that seem'd his aid to implore,36
From his good steed the lord of knighthood sprung,
[And left it wistful by the dismal door,
Since the cragg'd roof too low descending hung
For the great war-horse in its barb'd array;
And little dream'd he of the long delay,—]
His path the dove nor favour'd nor forbade;37
Motionless, folding on sharp rocks its wing,
With its soft eyes it watch'd, resign'd and sad,
Where fates, ordain'd for sorrow, led the King;
Nor did he miss (till earth regain'd the day)
The plumèd angel vanish'd from his way.