III.
Seize—seize—seize![N]
Bind him strong in the chain,
On his heart, on his brain,
Clasp the links of the evil Sleep!
Seize—seize—seize—
Ye fiends that dimly sweep
Up from the Stygian deep,
Where Death sits watchful by his brother's side!
Ye pale Impalpables, that are
Shadows of Truths afar,
Appearing oft to warn, but ne'er to guide,—
Hover around the calm, disdainful Fates,
Reveal the woof through which the spindle gleams:—
Open, ye Ebon gates!
Darken the moon—O Dreams!
Seize—seize—seize—
Bind him strong in the chain,
On his heart, on his brain,
Clasp the links of the evil Sleep!
Awakes or dreams he still?
His eyes are open with a glassy stare,
On the fix'd brow the large drops gather chill,
And horror, like a wind, stirs through the lifted hair.
Before him stands the Thing of Dread—
A giant shadow motionless and pale!
As those dim Lemur-Vapours that exhale
From the rank grasses rotting o'er the Dead,
And startle midnight with the mocking show
Of the still, shrouded bones that sleep below—
So the wan image which the Vision bore
Was outlined from the air, no more
Than served to make the loathing sense a bond
Between the world of life, and grislier worlds beyond.
IV.
"Behold!" the Shadow said, and lo,
Where the blank heath had spread, a smiling scene;
Soft woodlands sloping from a village green,[O]
And, waving to blue Heaven, the happy cornfields glow:
A modest roof, with ivy cluster'd o'er,
And Childhood's busy mirth beside the door.
But, yonder, sunset sleeping on the sod,
Bow Labour's rustic sons in solemn prayer;
And, self-made teacher of the truths of God,
The Dreamer sees the Phantom-Cromwell there!
"Art thou content, of these the greatest Thou,"
Murmur'd the Fiend, "the Master and the Priest?"
A sullen anger knit the Dreamer's brow,
And from his scornful lips the words came slow,
"The greatest of the hamlet, Demon, No!"
Loud laugh'd the Fiend—then trembled through the sky,
Where haply angels watch'd, a warning sigh;—
And darkness swept the scene, and golden Quiet ceased.
V.
"Behold!" the Shadow said—a hell-born ray
Shoots through the Night, up-leaps the unholy Day,
Spring from the earth the Dragon's armèd seed,
The ghastly squadron wheels, and neighs the spectre-steed.
Unnatural sounded the sweet Mother-tongue,
As loud from host to host the English war-cry rung;
Kindred with kindred blent in slaughter show
The dark phantasma of the Prophet-Woe!
A gay and glittering band!
Apollo's lovelocks in the crest of Mars—
Light-hearted Valour, laughing scorn to scars—
A gay and glittering band,
Unwitting of the scythe—the lilies of the land!
Pale in the midst, that stately squadron boasts
A princely form, a mournful brow;
And still, where plumes are proudest, seen,
With sparkling eye and dauntless mien,
The young Achilles[P] of the hosts.
On rolls the surging war—and now
Along the closing columns ring—
"Rupert" and "Charles"—"The Lady of the Crown,"[Q]
"Down with the Roundhead Rebels, down!"
"St. George and England's king."
A stalwart and a sturdy band,—
Whose souls of sullen zeal
Are made, by the Immortal Hand
Invulnerable steel!
A kneeling host,—a pause of prayer,
A single voice thrills through the air
"They come. Up, Ironsides!
For Truth and Peace unsparing smite!
Behold the accursed Amalekite!"
The Dreamer's heart beat high and loud,
For, calmly through the carnage-cloud,
The scourge and servant of the Lord,
This hand the Bible—that the sword—
The Phantom-Cromwell rides!
A lurid darkness swallows the array,
One moment lost—the darkness rolls away,
And, o'er the slaughter done,
Smiles, with his eyes of love, the setting Sun;
Death makes our foe our brother;
And, meekly, side by side,
Sleep scowling Hate and sternly smiling Pride,
On the kind breast of Earth, the quiet Mother!
Lo, where the victor sweeps along,
The Gideon of the gory throng,
Beneath his hoofs the harmless dead—
The aureole on his helmèd head—
Before him steel-clad Victory bending,
Around, from earth to heaven ascending
The fiery incense of triumphant song.
So, as some orb, above a mighty stream
Sway'd by its law, and sparkling in its beam,—
A power apart from that tempestuous tide,
Calm and aloft, behold the Phantom-Conqueror ride!