Alive, as the wind-harp, how lightly soever
If woo'd by the Zephyr, to music will quiver,
Is Woman to Hope and to Fear;
Ah, tender one! still at the shadow of grieving,
How quiver the chords—how thy bosom is heaving—
How trembles thy glance through the tear!
Man's dominion, war and labour;
Might to right the Statute gave;
Laws are in the Scythian's sabre;
Where the Mede reign'd—see the Slave!
Peace and Meekness grimly routing,
Prowls the War-lust, rude and wild;
Eris rages, hoarsely shouting,
Where the vanish'd Graces smil'd.
But Woman, the Soft One, persuasively prayeth—
Of the Senses she charmeth, the sceptre she swayeth;
She lulls, as she looks from above,
The Discord whose Hell for its victims is gaping,
And blending awhile the for-ever escaping,
Whispers Hate to the Image of Love!
THE FIGHT WITH THE DRAGON.
Who comes?—why rushes fast and loud,
Through lane and street the hurtling crowd,
Is Rhodes on fire?—Hurrah!—along
Faster and fast storms the throng!
High towers a shape in knightly garb—
Behold the Rider and the Barb!
Behind is dragg'd a wondrous load;
Beneath what monster groans the road?
The horrid jaws—the Crocodile,
The shape the mightier Dragon, shows—
From Man to Monster all the while—
The alternate wonder glancing goes.
Shout thousands, with a single voice,
"Behold the Dragon, and rejoice,
Safe roves the herd, and safe the swain!
Lo!—there the Slayer—here the Slain!
Full many a breast, a gallant life,
Has waged against the ghastly strife,
And ne'er return'd to mortal sight—
Hurrah, then, for the Hero Knight!"
So to the Cloister, where the vow'd
And peerless Brethren of St John
In conclave sit—that sea-like crowd,
Wave upon wave, goes thundering on.
High o'er the rest, the chief is seen—
There wends the Knight with modest mien;
Pours through the galleries raised for all
Above that Hero-council Hall,
The crowd—And thus the Victor One:—
"Prince—the knight's duty I have done.
The Dragon that devour'd the land
Lies slain beneath thy servant's hand;
Free, o'er the pasture, rove the flocks—
And free the idler's steps may stray—
And freely o'er the lonely rocks,
The holier pilgrim wends his way!"
A lofty look the Master gave,
"Certes," he said; "thy deed is brave;
Dread was the danger, dread the fight—
Bold deeds bring fame to vulgar knight;
But say, what sways with holier laws
The knight who sees in Christ his cause,
And wears the cross?"—Then every cheek
Grew pale to hear the Master speak;
But nobler was the blush that spread
His face—the Victor's of the day—
As bending lowly—"Prince," he said;
"His noblest duty—TO OBEY!"