The Poetical Works of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart. M.P Part 36

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And the Pale Horse[6] rose ghastly o'er the dead.

"Lo, the wan shadow of a giant hand 55 Pa.s.s'd o'er the pool--the demon war was gone; City on city stretch'd, and land on land; The wondrous landscape broadening, lengthening on, Till that small compa.s.s in its clasp contain'd All this wide isle o'er which my fathers reign'd.

"There, by the lord of streams, a palace rose; 56 On b.l.o.o.d.y floors there was a throne of state; And in the land there dwelt one race--our foes; And on the single throne the Saxon sate!

And Cymri's crown was on his knitted brow; And where stands Carduel, went the labourer's plough.

"And east and west, and north and south I turn'd, 57 And call'd my people as a king should call; Pale in the hollow mountains I discern'd Rude scatter'd stragglers from the common thrall; Kingless and armyless, by crag and cave,-- Ghosts on the margin of their country's grave.

"And even there, amidst the barren steeps, 58 I heard the tramp, I saw the Saxon steel; Aloft, red Murder like a deluge sweeps, Nor rock can save, nor cavern can conceal; Hill after hill, the waves devouring rise, Till in one mist of carnage closed my eyes!

"Then spoke the h.e.l.l-born shadow by my side-- 59 'O king, who dreamest, amid sweets and bloom, Life, like one summer holiday, can glide, Blind to the storm-cloud of the coming doom; ARTHUR PENDRAGON, to the Saxon's sway Thy kingdom and thy crown shall pa.s.s away.'

"'And who art thou, that Heaven's august decrees 60 Usurp'st thus?' I cried, and lo the s.p.a.ce Was void!--Amidst the horror of the trees, And by the pool, which mirror'd back the face Of Dark in crystal darkness--there I stood, And the sole spectre was the Solitude!

"I knew no more--strong as a mighty dream 61 The trouble seized the soul, and seal'd the sense; I knew no more, till in the blessed beam, Life sprung to loving Nature for defence; Vale, flower, and fountain laugh'd in jocund spring, And pride came back,--again I was a king!

"But, ev'n the while with airy sport of tongue 62 (As with light wing the skylark from its nest Lures the invading step) I led the throng From the dark brood of terror in my breast; Still frown'd the vision on my haunted eye, And blood seem'd reddening in the azure sky.

"O thou, the Almighty Lord of earth and heaven, 63 Without whose will not ev'n a sparrow falls, If to my sight the fearful truth was given, If thy dread hand hath graven on these walls The Chaldee's doom, and to the stranger's sway My kingdom and my crown shall pa.s.s away,--

"Grant this--a freeman's, if a monarch's, prayer!-- 64 LIFE, while my life one man from chains can save; While earth one refuge, or the cave one lair, Yields to the closing struggle of the brave!-- Mine the last desperate but avenging hand; If reft the sceptre, not resign'd the brand!"

"Close to my clasp!" the prophet cried, "Impart 65 To these iced veins the glow of youth once more; The healthful throb of one great human heart Baffles more fiends than all a magian's lore; Brave child----" Young arms embracing check'd the rest, And youth and age stood mingled breast to breast.

"Ho!" cried the mighty master, while he broke 66 From the embrace, and round from vault to floor Mysterious echoes answered as he spoke; And flames twined snake-like round the wand he bore.

And freezing winds tumultuous swept the cell, As from the wings of hosts invisible:

"Ho! ye spiritual Ministers of all 67 The airy s.p.a.ce below the Sapphire Throne, To the swift axle of this earthly ball-- Yea, to the deep, where evermore alone h.e.l.l's king with memory of lost glory dwells.

And from that memory weaves his h.e.l.l of h.e.l.ls;--

"Ho! ye who fill the crevices of air, 68 And speed the whirlwind round the reeling bark-- Or dart destroying in the forked glare, Or rise--the bloodless People of the Dark, In the pale shape of Dreams--when to the bed Of Murder glide the simulated dead,--

"Hither ye myriad hosts!--O'er tower and dome, 69 Wait the high mission, and attend the word; Whether to pierce the mountain with the gnome, Or soar to heights where never wing'd the bird; So that the secret and the boon ye wrest From Time's cold grasp, or Fate's reluctant breast!"

Mute stood the King--when lo, the dragon-keep 70 Shook to its rack'd foundations, as when all Corycia's caverns and the Delphic steep Shook to the foot-tread of invading Gaul; Or, as his path when flaming aetna frees, Shakes some proud city on Sicilian seas;

Reel'd heaving from his feet the dizzy floor; 71 Swam dreamlike on his gaze the fading cell; As falls the seaman, when the waves dash o'er The plank that glideth from his grasp--he fell.

To eyes ungifted, deadly were the least Of those last mysteries, Nature yields her priest.

Morn, the joy-bringer, from her sparkling urn 72 Scatters o'er herb and flower the orient dew; The larks to heaven, and souls to thought return-- Life, in each source, leaps rus.h.i.+ng forth anew, Fills every grain in Nature's boundless plan, And wakes new fates in each desire of man.

In each desire, each thought, each fear, each hope, 73 Each scheme, each wish, each fancy, and each end, That morn calls forth, say, who can span the scope?

Who track the arrow which the soul may send?

One morning woke Olympia's youthful son, And long'd for fame--and half the world was won.

Fair s.h.i.+nes the sun on stately Carduel; 74 The falcon, hoodwink'd, basks upon the wall; The tilt-yard echoes with the clarion's swell, And l.u.s.ty youth comes thronging to the call; And martial sports (the daily wont) begin, The page must practise if the knight would win.

Some spur the palfrey at the distant ring; 75 Some, with blunt lance, in mimic tourney charge; Here skirs the pebble from the poised sling, Or flies the arrow rounding to the targe; While Age and Fame sigh smiling to behold The young leaves budding to replace the old.

Nor yet forgot, amid the special sports 76 Of polish'd Chivalry, the primal ten[8]

Athletic contests, known in elder courts Ere knighthood rose from the great Father-men.

Beyond the tilt-yard spread the larger s.p.a.ce, For the strong wrestle, and the breathless race;

Here some, the huge dull weights up-heaving throw; 77 Some ply the staff, and some the sword and s.h.i.+eld; And some that falchion with its thunder-blow Which HEUS[9] the Guardian, taught the Celt, to wield; Heus, who first guided o'er "the Hazy Main"

Our t.i.tan[10] sires from Defrobanni's plain.

Life thus astir, and sport upon the wing, 78 Why yet doth Arthur dream day's prime away?

Still in charm'd slumber lies the quiet King; On his own couch the merry sunbeams play, Gleam o'er the arms hung trophied from the wall; And Cymri's antique crown surmounting all.

Slowly he woke; life came back with a sigh 79 (That herald, or that follower, to the gate Of all our knowledge)--and his startled eye Fell where beside his couch the prophet sate; And with that sight rush'd back the mystic cell, The awful summons, the arrested spell.

"Prince," said the prophet, "with this morn awake 80 From pomp, from pleasure, to high toils and brave; From yonder wall the arms of knighthood take, But leave the crown the knightly arms may save; O'er mount and vale, go, pilgrim, forth alone, And win the gifts which shall defend a throne.

"Thus speak the Fates--till in the heavens the sun 81 Rounds his revolving course, O King, return To man's first, n.o.blest birthright, TOIL:--so won In Grecian fable, to the ambrosial urn Of joyous Hebe, and the Olympian grove, The labouring son Alemena bore to Jove.

"By the stout heart to peril's sight inured, 82 By the wise brain which toil hath stored and skill'd, Valour is school'd and glory is secured, And the large ends of fame and fate fulfill'd: But hear the gifts thy year of proof must gain, To fail in one leaves those achieved in vain.

"The falchion, welded from a diamond gem, 83 Hid in the Lake of Argent Music-Falls, Where springs a forest from a single stem, And moon-lit waters close o'er Cuthite halls-- First taste the herb that grows upon a grave, Then see the bark that wafts thee down the wave.

"The silver s.h.i.+eld in which the infant sleep 84 Of Thor was cradled,--now the jealous care Of the fierce dwarf whose home is on the deep, Where drifting ice-rocks clash in lifeless air; And War's pale Sisters smile to see the shock Stir the still curtains round the couch of Lok.

"And last of all--before the Iron Gate 85 Which opes its entrance at the faintest breath, But hath no egress; where remorseless Fate Sits, weaving life, within the porch of Death; Earth's childlike guide shall wait thee in the gloom, With golden locks, and looks that light the tomb.

"Achieve the sword, the s.h.i.+eld, the virgin guide, 86 And in those gifts appease the Powers of wrath; Be danger braved, and be delight defied, From grief take wisdom, and from wisdom faith;-- And though dark wings hang o'er these threaten'd halls, Though war's red surge break thundering round thy walls,

"Though, in the rear of time, these prophet eyes 87 See to thy sons, thy Cymrians, many a woe; Yet from thy loins a race of kings shall rise, Whose throne shall shadow all the seas that flow; Whose empire, broader than the Caesar won, Shall clasp a realm where never sets the sun:

"And thou, thyself, shalt live from age to age, 88 A thought of beauty and a type of fame;-- Not the faint memory of some mouldering page, But by the hearths of men a household name: Theme to all song, and marvel to all youth-- Beloved as Fable, yet believed as Truth.

"But if thou fail--thrice woe!" Up sprang the King: 89 "Let the woe fall on feeble kings who fail Their country's need! When eagles spread the wing, They face the sun, not tremble at the gale: And, if ordain'd heaven's mission to perform, They bear the thunder where they cleave the storm."

Ere yet the shadows from the castle's base 90 Show'd lapsing noon--in Carduel's council-hall, To the high princes of the Dragon race, The mighty Prophet, whom the awe of all As Fate's unerring oracle adored,-- Told the self exile of the parted lord;

For his throne's safety and his country's weal 91 On high emprise to distant regions bound; The cause must wisdom for success conceal; For each sage counsel is, as fate, profound: And none may trace the travail in the seed Till the blade burst to glory in the deed.

Few were the orders, as wise orders are, 92 For the upholding of the chiefless throne; To strengthen peace and yet prepare for war; Lest the fierce Saxon (Arthur's absence known) Loose death's pale charger from the broken rein, To its grim pastures on the b.l.o.o.d.y plain.

Leave we the startled Princes in the hall; 93 Leave we the wondering babblers in the mart; The grief, the guess, the hope, the doubt, and all That stir a nation to its inmost heart, When some portentous Chance, unseen till then, Strides in the circles of unthinking men.[11]

Where the screen'd portal from the embattled town 94 Opes midway on the hill, the lonely King, Forth issuing, guides his barded charger down The steep descent. Amidst the pomp of spring Lapses the lucid river; jocund May Waits in the vale to strew with flowers his way.

Of brightest steel (but not emboss'd with gold 95 As when in tourneys rode the royal knight), His arms flash suns.h.i.+ne back; the azure fold Of the broad mantle, like a wave of light, Floats tremulous, and leaves the sword-arm free.-- Fair was that darling of all Poetry!

Through the raised vizor beam'd the fearless eye, 96 The limpid mirror of a stately soul; Bright with young hope, but grave with purpose high; Sweet to encourage, steadfast to control; An eye from which subjected hosts might draw, As from a double fountain, love and awe.

The careless curl, that from the helm escaped, 97 Gleam'd in the sunlight, lending gold to gold.

Nor fairer face, in Parian marble shaped, Beam'd gracious down from Delian shrines of old; Albeit in bolder majesty look'd forth The hardy soul of the chivalric North

O'er the light limb, and o'er the shoulders broad, 98 The steel flow'd pliant as a silken vest; Strength was so supple that like grace it show'd, And force was only by its ease confest; Ev'n as the storms in gentlest waters sleep, And in the ripple flows the mighty deep.

The Poetical Works of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart. M.P Part 36

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