The Poetical Works of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart. M.P Part 84

Low o'er that conquering hand, the high-soul'd foe 186 Bow'd the war plumed upon his raven crest; Caught from those kingly words, one generous glow Chased Hate's last twilight from each Cymrian breast; Humbled, the captives hear the fetters fall, Power's tranquil shadow--mercy, awes them all!

Dark scowl the Priests;--with vengeance priestcraft dies! 187 Slow looks, where Pride yet struggles, Crida rears; On Crida's child rest Arthur's soft'ning eyes, And Crida's child is weeping happy tears; And Lancelot, closer at Genevra's side, Pales at the compact that may lose the bride.

When from the altar by the holy rood, 188 Come the deep accents of the Cymrian Mage, Sublimely bending o'er the mult.i.tude Thought's Atlas temples crown'd with t.i.tan age, O'er Druid robes the beard's broad silver streams, As when the vision rose on virgin dreams.

"Hearken, ye Scythia's and Cimmeria's sons, 189 Whose sires alike by golden rivers dwelt, When sate the Asas on their hunter thrones; When Orient vales rejoiced the shepherd Celt; While EVE'S young races towards each other drawn, Roved lingering round the Eden gates of dawn.

"Still the old brother-bond in these new homes, 190 After long woes shall bind your kindred races; Here, the same G.o.d shall find the sacred domes; And the same landmarks bound your resting-places, What time, o'er realms to Heus and Thor unknown, Both Celt and Saxon rear their common throne.

"Meanwhile, revere the Word the viewless Hand 191 Writes on the leaves of kingdom-dooming stars; Through Prydain's Isle of Pines, from sea to land, Where yet Rome's eagle leaves the thunder scars, The sceptre sword of Saxon kings shall reach, And new-born nations speak the Teuton's speech;

"All save thy mountain empire, Dragon King! 192 All save the Cymrian's Ararat--Wild Wales![11]

Here Cymrian bards to fame and G.o.d shall sing-- Here Cymrian freemen breathe the hardy gales, And the same race that Heus the Guardian led, Rise from these graves--when G.o.d awakes the dead!"

The Prophet paused, and all that pomp of plumes 193 Bow'd as the harvest which the south wind heaves, When, while the breeze disturbs, the beam illumes, And blessings gladden in the trembling sheaves.

He paused, and thus renew'd: "Thrice happy, ye Founders of shrines and sires of kings to be!

"Hear, Harold, type of the strong Saxon soul, 194 Supple to truth, untameable by force, Thy dauntless blood through Gwynedd's chiefs shall roll,[12]

Through Scotland's monarchs take its fiery course, And flow with Arthur's, in the later days, Through Ocean-Caesars, either zone obeys.

"Man of the manly heart, reward the foe 195 Who braved thy sword, and yet forbore thy breast, Who loved thy child, yet could the love forego And give the sire;--thy looks supply the rest, I read thine answer in thy generous glance!

Stand forth--bold child of Christian Chevisaunce!"

Then might ye see a sight for smiles and tears, 196 Young Lancelot's hand in Harold's cordial grasp, While from his breast the frank-eyed father rears The cheek that glows beneath the arms that clasp; "Shrink'st thou," he said, "from bonds by fate reveal'd?-- Go--rock my grandson in the Cymrian's s.h.i.+eld!"

"And ye," the solemn voice resumed, "O kings! 197 Hearken, Pendragon, son of Odin, hear!

There is a mystery in the heart of things, Which Truth and Falsehood seek alike with fear, To Truth from heaven, to Falsehood, breathed from h.e.l.l, Comes yet to both the unquiet oracle.

"Not vainly, Crida, priest, and rune, and dream, 198 Warn'd thee of fates commingling into one The silver river and the mountain stream; From Odin's daughter and Pendragon's son, Shall rise the royalties of farthest years Born to the birthright of the Saxon spears.

"The bright decree that seem'd a curse to hate, 199 Blesses both races when fulfill'd by love; From Cymri's Dragon England's power shall date, And peace be born to Cymri from the Dove.[13]

Eternal links let nuptial garlands weave, And Cymri's queen be Saxon Genevieve!"

Perplex'd, reluctant with the pangs of pride, 200 And shadowy doubts from dark religion thrown, Stern Crida, lingering, turn'd his face aside; Then rise the elders from the idle stone; From fallen chains the kindred Teutons spring, Low murmurs rustle round the moody king;

On priest and warrior, while they whisper, dwells 201 The searching light of that imperious eye; Warrior and priest, the prophet word compels; And overmasters like a destiny-- When towards the maid the radiant conqueror drew, And said, "Enslaver, it is mine to sue!"

To Crida, then, "Proud chief, I do confess 202 The loftier attribute 'tis thine to boast.

The pride of kings is in the power to bless, The kingliest hand is that which gives the most; Priceless the gift I ask thee to bestow,-- But doubly royal is a generous foe!"

Then forth--subdued, yet stately, Crida came, 203 And the last hold in that rude heart was won: "Hero, thy conquest makes no more my shame, He shares thy glory who can call thee 'Son!'

So may this love-knot bind and bless the lands!"

Faltering he spoke--and join'd the plighted hands.

There flock the hosts as to a holy ground, 204 There, where the dove at last may fold the wing!

His mission ended, and his labours crown'd, Fair as in fable stands the Dragon King-- Below the Cross, and by his prophet's side, With Carduel's knighthood kneeling round his bride.

What gallant deeds in gentle lists were done, 205 What lutes made joyaunce sweet in jasmine bowers, Let others tell:--Slow sets the summer sun; Slow fall the mists, and closing, droop the flowers; Faint in the gloaming dies the vesper bell,-- And Dream-land sleeps round golden Carduel.

NOTES TO BOOK XII.

1.--Page 417, stanza xl.

_"The watch-pa.s.s 'Vingolf' wins thee thro' the van._

Vingolf. Literally, "The Abode of Friends;" the name for the place in which the heavenly G.o.ddesses a.s.semble.

2.--Page 419, stanza liv.

_What rites appease thee, Father of the Slain?_

Father of the Slain, Valfader.--Odin.

3.--Page 420, stanza lxiv.

_Her sisters tremble at the Urdar spring._

"Her sisters tremble," &c.,--that is, the other two Fates (the Present and the Past) tremble at the Well of Life.

4.--Page 424, stanza lx.x.xix.

_To all the valiant Gladsheim's Halls unclose._

Gladsheim, Heaven: Walhalla ("the Hall of the Chosen") did not exclude brave foes who fell in battle.

5.--Page 425, stanza xcvi.

_The Laeca s.h.i.+nes beside the bautasten._

The SCIN LaeCA, or s.h.i.+ning corpse, that was seen before the bautasten, or burial-stone of a dead hero, was supposed to possess prophetic powers, and to guard the treasures of the grave.

6.--Page 429, stanza cxxiii.

_Thy post with Odin--mine with Managarm!_

Managarm, the Monster Wolf (symbolically, WAR). "He will be filled with the blood of men who draw near their end," &c. (PROSE EDDA).

7.--Page 430, stanza cx.x.xii.

_And the last Fire-G.o.d and the Flaming Sword!_

"And the last Fire-G.o.d and the Flaming Sword," _i.e._, Surtur the genius, who dwells in the region of fire (Muspelheim), whose flaming sword shall vanquish the G.o.ds themselves in the last day. (PROSE EDDA).

8.--Page 431, stanza cx.x.xv.

_And ghastly legends teem with tales of FAUL!_