The Poetical Works of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart. M.P Part 75

As leaps the warfire on the beacon hills, 49 Leapt in each heart the lofty flame divine; As into sunlight flash the molten rills, Flash'd the glad claymores,[4] lightening line on line; From cloud to cloud as thunder speeds along, From rank to rank rush'd forth the choral song.--

Woman and child--all caught the fire of men, 50 To its own heaven that Alleluia rang, Life to the spectres had return'd again; And from the grave an armed Nation sprang!

Then spoke the Bard,--each crest its plumage bow'd, As the large voice went lengthening through the crowd

"Hark to the measur'd march!--The Saxons come! 51 The sound earth quails beneath the hollow tread; Your fathers rush'd upon the swords of Rome And climb'd her war-s.h.i.+ps, when the Caesar fled!

The Saxons come! why wait within the wall?

They scale the mountain--let its torrents fall!

"Mark, ye have swords, and s.h.i.+elds, and armour, YE! 52 No mail defends the Cymrian Child of Song,[5]

But where the warrior--there the Bard shall be!

All fields of glory to the Bard belong!

His realm extends wherever G.o.dlike strife Spurns the base death, and wins immortal life.

"Unarm'd he goes--his guard the s.h.i.+elds of all, 53 Where he bounds foremost on the Saxon spear!

Unarm'd he goes, that, falling, ev'n his fall Shall bring no shame, and shall bequeath no fear!

Does his song cease?--avenge it by the deed, And make his sepulchre--a nation freed!"

He said, and where the chieftains wrangling sate, 54 Led the grand army marshall'd by his song, Into the hall--and on the wild debate, King of all kings, A PEOPLE, pour'd along; And from the heart of man--the trumpet cry Smote faction down, "Arms, arms, and Liberty!"--

Meanwhile roll'd on the Saxon's long array; 55 On to the wall the surge of slaughter roll'd; Slow up the mount--slow heaved its labouring way; The moonlight rested on the domes of gold; No warder peals alarum from the Keep, And Death comes mute, as on the realm of Sleep;

When, as their ladders touch'd the ruin'd wall, 56 And to the van, high-towering, Harold strode, Sudden expand the brazen gates, and all The awful arch as with the lava glow'd; Torch upon torch the deathful sweep illumes, The burst of armour and the flash of plumes!

Rings Owaine's shout;--rings Geraint's thunder-cry, 57 The Saxon's death-knell in a hundred wars; And Cador's laugh of triumph;--through the sky Rush tossing banderolls swift as shooting stars, Trystan's white lion--Lancelot's cross of red, And Tudor's[6] standard with the Saxon's head.

And high o'er all, its scaled splendour rears 58 The vengeful emblem of the Dragon Kings.

Full on the Saxon bursts the storm of spears; Far down the vale the charging whirlwind rings, While through the ranks its barbed knightood clave, All Carduel follows with its roaring wave.

And ever in the van, with robes of white 59 And ivory harp, shone swordless Caradoc!

And ever floated in melodious might, The clear song buoyant o'er the battle shock; Calm as an eagle when the Olympian King Sends the red bolt upon the tranquil wing.

Borne back, and wedged within the ponderous weight 60 Of their own jarr'd and mult.i.tudinous crowd, Recoil'd the Saxons! As adown the height Of some grey mountain, rolls the cloven cloud, Smit by the shafts of the resistless day,-- Down to the vale sunk dun the rent array.

Midway between the camp and Carduel, 61 Halting their slow retreat, the Saxons stood: There, as the wall-like ocean ere it fell On aegypt's chariots, gather'd up the flood; There, in suspended deluge, solid rose, And hung expectant o'er the hurrying foes!

Right in the centre, rampired round with s.h.i.+elds, 62 King Crida stood,--o'er him, its livid mane The horse whose pasture is the Valkyr's fields Flung wide;--but, foremost through the javelin-rain, Blazed Harold's helm, as when, through all the stars Distinct, pale soothsayers see the dooming Mars.

Down dazzling sweeps the Cymrian Chivalry; 63 Round the bright sweep closes the Saxon wall; s.n.a.t.c.h'd from the glimmer of the funeral sky, Raves the blind murder; and enclasp'd with all Its own stern h.e.l.l, against the iron bar Pants the fierce heart of the imprison'd War.

Only by gleaming banners and the flash 64 Of some large sword, the vex'd Obscure once more Sparkled to light. In one tumultous clash Merg'd every sound--as when the maelstrom's roar By dire Lofoden, dulls the seaman's groan, And drowns the voice of tempests in its own.

The Cymrian ranks,--disparted from their van, 65 And their hemm'd hors.e.m.e.n,--stubborn, but in vain, Press through the levell'd spears; yet, man by man, And s.h.i.+eld to s.h.i.+eld close-serried, they sustain The sleeting hail against them hurtling sent, From every cloud in that dread armament.

But now, at length, cleaving the solid clang, 66 And o'er the dead men in their frowning sleep, The rallying shouts of chiefs confronted rang,-- "Thor and Walhalla!"--answer'd swift and deep By "Alleluia!" and thy chanted cry, Young Bard sublime, "For Christ and Liberty!"

Then the ranks open'd, and the midnight moon 67 Stream'd where the battle, like the scornful main, Ebb'd from the dismal wrecks its wrath had strewn.

Paused either host;--lo, in the central plain Two chiefs had met, and in that breathless pause, Each to its champion left a Nation's cause.

Now, Heaven defend thee, n.o.ble Lancelot! 68 For never yet such danger thee befel, Though loftier deeds than thine emblazon not The peerless Twelve of golden Carduel, Though oft thy breast hath singly stemm'd a field,-- As when thy claymore clang'd on Harold's s.h.i.+eld!

And Lancelot knew not his majestic foe, 69 Save by his deeds; by Cador's cloven crest; By Modred's corpse; by rills of blood below, And shrinking helms above;--when from the rest, Spurring,--the steel of his uplifted brand Drew down the lightning of that red right hand.

Full on the Saxon's s.h.i.+eld the sword descends; 70 The strong s.h.i.+eld clattering s.h.i.+vers at the stroke, And the bright crest with all its plumage bends As to the blast with all its boughs an oak: As from the blast an oak with all its boughs, Retowering slow, the crest sublime arose.

Grasp'd with both hands, above the Cymrian swung 71 The axe that Odin taught his sons to wield, Thrice through the air the circling iron sung, Then crash'd resounding:--horse and horseman recl'd, Though slant from sword and casque the weapon sh.o.r.e, Down sword and casque the weight resistless bore.

The bright plume mingles with the charger's mane; 72 Light leaves the heaven, and sense forsakes the breath; Aloft the axe impatient whirrs again,-- The steed wild-snorting bounds and foils the death; While on its neck the reins unheeded flow, It shames and saves its Lord, and flies the foe.

"Lo, Saxons, lo, what chiefs these Walloons[7] lead!" 73 Laugh'd hollow from his helm the scornful Thane.

Then towards the Christian knights he spurr'd his steed, When midway in his rush--rushes again The foe that rallied while he seem'd to fly, As wheels the falcon ere it swoops from high;--

And as the falcon, while its talons dart 74 Into the crane's broad bosom, splits its own On the sharp beak, and, clinging heart to heart, Both in one plumage blent, spin whirling down,-- So in that shock each found, and dealt the blow; Horse roll'd on horse, fell grappling foe on foe.

First to his feet the slighter Cymrian leapt, 75 And on the Saxon's breast set firm his knee; Then o'er the heathen host a shudder crept, Rose all their voices,--wild and wailingly; "Woe, Harold, woe!" as from one bosom came, The groan of thousands, and the mighty name.

The Cymrian starts, and stays his lifted hand, 76 For at that name from Harold's vizor shone Genevra's eyes! Back in its sheath the brand He plunged:--sprang Harold--and the foe was gone,-- Lost where the Saxons rush'd along the plain, To save the living or avenge the slain.

Spurr'd to the rescue every Cymrian knight, 77 Again confused, the onslaught raged on high; Again the war-shout swell'd above the fight, Again the chant "for Christ and Liberty,"

When with fresh hosts unbreath'd, the Saxon king Forth from the wall of s.h.i.+elds leapt thundering.

Behind the chief the dreadful gonfanon 78 Spread;--the Pale Horse went rus.h.i.+ng down the wind.-- "On where the Valkyrs point to Carduel, on!

On o'er the corpses to the wolf consign'd!

On, that the Pale Horse, ere the night be o'er Stall'd in yon tower, may rest his hoofs of gore!"

Thus spoke the king, and all his hosts replied; 79 Fill'd by his word and kindled by his look-- (For helmless with his grey hair streaming wide, He strided through the spears)--the mountains shook-- Shook the dim city--as that answer rang!

The fierce shout chiming to the buckler's clang!

Aghast, the Cymrians see, like t.i.tan sons 80 New-born from earth,--leap forth the sudden bands: As when the wind's invisible tremour runs Through corn-sheaves ripening for the reaper's hands, The glittering tumult undulating flows, And the field quivers where the panic goes.

The Cymrians waver--shrink--recoil--give way, 81 Strike with weak hands amazed; half turn to flee; In vain with knightly charge the chiefs delay The hostile ma.s.s that rolls resistlessly, And the pale hoofs for aye had trampled down The Cymrian freedom and the Dragon Crown,

But for that arch preserver, under heaven, 82 Of names and states, the Bard! the hour was come To prove the ends for which the lyre was given:-- Each thought divine demands its martyrdom.

"Where round the central standard rallying flock The Dragon Chiefs--paused and spoke Caradoc!

"Ye Cymrian men!" Hush'd at the calm sweet sound, 83 Droop'd the wild murmur, bow'd the loftiest crest, Meekly the haughty paladins group'd round The swordless hero with the mailless breast, Whose front, serene amid the spears, had taught To humbled Force the chivalry of Thought.

"Ye Cymrian men--from Heus the Guardian's tomb 84 I speak the oracular promise of the Past.

Fear not the Saxon! Till the judgment doom Free on their hills the Dragon race shall last, If from you heathen, ye this night can save One spot not wider than a single grave.

"For thus the antique prophecy decrees,-- 85 'When where the Pale Horse crushes down the dead, War's sons shall see the lonely child of peace Grasp at the mane to fall beneath the tread-- There, where he falleth let his dust remain, There, bid the Dragon rest above the slain;

"'There, let the steel-clad living watch the clay, 86 Till on that spot their swords the grave have made, And the Pale Horse shall melt in cloud away, No stranger's step the sacred mound invade: A people's life that single death shall save, And all the land be hallow'd by a grave.'

"So be the Guardian's prophecy fulfill'd, 87 Advance the Dragon, for the grave is mine."

He ceased: while yet the silver accents thrill'd Each mailed bosom down the listening line, Bounded his steed, and like an arrow went His plume, swift glancing through the armament.

On through the tempest went it glimmering, 88 On through the rus.h.i.+ng barbs and levell'd spears; On where, far streaming o'er the Teuton king, Its horrent pomp the ghastly standard rears.

On rush'd to rescue all to whom his breath Left what saves Nations,--the disdain of death!