The Poetical Works of William Lisle Bowles Volume I Part 25

[163] When the Egyptians found the ark, their expression was, "Let us rejoice, we have found the lost Osiris," or Noah.

[164] The deluge or devastating storm.

[165] The desert of Ariana, where the army of Cyrus perished.

[166] Ammon, according to Sir Isaac Newton, was the first artificer who built large s.h.i.+ps, and pa.s.sed the Straits.

[167] The entrance into the Red Sea was called the Gate of Affliction.

[168] Temple of Solomon.

[169] Alluding to the story of Patagonians bursting their cords when taken.

[170] Pillars of Hercules.

[171] Moloch, whose rites of blood are well known, was wors.h.i.+pped along the coast of Syria.

[172] The island described by Plato; by some supposed to be America.

BOOK THE THIRD.

My heart has sighed in secret, when I thought That the dark tide of time might one day close, England, o'er thee, as long since it has closed On Egypt and on Tyre: that ages hence, From the Pacific's billowy loneliness, Whose tract thy daring search revealed, some isle Might rise in green-haired beauty eminent, And like a G.o.ddess, glittering from the deep, Hereafter sway the sceptre of domain From pole to pole; and such as now thou art, 10 Perhaps NEW-HOLLAND be. For who shall say What the OMNIPOTENT ETERNAL ONE, That made the world, hath purposed! Thoughts like these, Though visionary, rise; and sometimes move A moment's sadness, when I think of thee, My country, of thy greatness, and thy name, Among the nations; and thy character,-- Though some few spots be on thy flowing robe,-- Of loveliest beauty: I have never pa.s.sed Through thy green hamlets on a summer's morn, 20 Nor heard thy sweet bells ring, nor seen the youths And smiling maidens of thy villages, Gay in their Sunday tire, but I have said, With pa.s.sing tenderness--Live, happy land, Where the poor peasant feels his shed, though small, An independence and a pride, that fill His honest heart with joy--joy such as they Who crowd the mart of men may never feel!

Such, England, is thy boast. When I have heard The roar of ocean bursting 'round thy rocks, 30 Or seen a thousand thronging masts aspire, Far as the eye could reach, from every port Of every nation, streaming with their flags O'er the still mirror of the conscious Thames,-- Yes, I have felt a proud emotion swell That I was British-born; that I had lived A witness of thy glory, my most loved And honoured country; and a silent prayer Would rise to Heaven, that Fame and Peace, and Love And Liberty, might walk thy vales, and sing 40 Their holy hymns, while thy brave arm repelled Hostility, even as thy guardian cliffs Repel the dash of that dread element Which calls me, lingering on the banks of Thames, On to my destined voyage, by the sh.o.r.es Of Asia, and the wreck of cities old, Ere yet we burst into the wilder deep With Gama; or the huge Atlantic waste With bold Columbus stem; or view the bounds Of field-ice, stretching to the southern pole, 50 With thee, benevolent, lamented Cook!

Tyre be no more! said the ALMIGHTY voice: But thou too, Monarch of the world,[173] whose arm Rent the proud bulwarks of the golden queen Of cities, throned upon her subject seas, ART THOU TOO FALL'N?

The whole earth is at rest: "They break forth into singing:" Lebanon Waves all his h.o.a.ry pines, and seems to say, No feller now comes here; h.e.l.l from beneath 60 Is moved to meet thy coming; it stirs up The DEAD for thee; the CHIEF ONES of the earth, Tyre and the nations, they all speak and say-- Art thou become like us! Thy pomp brought down E'en to the dust! The noise of viols ceased, The worm spread under thee, the crawling worm To cover thee! How art thou fall'n from heaven, Son of the morning! In thy heart thou saidst, I will ascend to Heaven; I will exalt My throne above the stars of G.o.d! Die--die, 70 Blasphemer! As a carcase under foot, Defiled and trodden, so be thou cast out!

And SHE, the great, the guilty Babel--SHE Who smote the wasted cities, and the world Made as a wilderness--SHE, in her turn, Sinks to the gulf oblivious at the voice Of HIM who sits in judgment on her crimes!

Who, o'er her palaces and buried towers, Shall bid the owl hoot, and the bittern scream; And on her pensile groves and pleasant shades 80 Pour the deep waters of forgetfulness.

On that same night, when with a cry she fell, (Like her own mighty idol dashed to earth,) There was a strange eclipse, and long laments Were heard, and muttering thunders o'er the towers Of the high palace where his wa.s.sail loud Belshazzar kept, mocking the G.o.d OF HEAVEN, And flushed with impious mirth; for BEL had left With sullen shriek his golden shrine, and sat, With many a gloomy apparition girt, 90 NISROCH and NEBO chief, in the dim sphere Of mooned ASTORETH, whose orb now rolled In darkness:--They their earthly empire mourned; Meantime the host of Cyrus through the night Silent advanced more nigh; and at that hour, In the torch-blazing hall of revelry, The fingers of a shadowy hand distinct Came forth, and unknown figures marked the wall, Searing the eye-b.a.l.l.s of the starting king: Tyre is avenged; Babel is fall'n, is fall'n! 100 Bel and her G.o.ds are shattered!

PRINCE, to thee Called by the voice of G.o.d to execute His will on earth, and raised to Persia's throne, CYRUS, all hearts pay homage. Touched with tints Most clear by the historian's magic art, Thy features wear a gentleness and grace Unlike the stern cold aspect and the frown Of the dark chiefs of yore, the gloomy clan Of heroes, from humanity and love 110 Removed: To thee a brighter character Belongs--high dignity, unbending truth-- Yet Nature; not that lordly apathy Which confidence and human sympathy Represses, but a soul that bids all hearts Smiling approach. We almost burn in thought To kiss the hand that loosed Panthea's chains, And bless him with a parent's, husband's tear, Who stood a guardian angel in distress To the unfriended, and the beautiful, 120 Consigned a helpless slave. Thy portrait, touched With tints of softest light, thus wins all hearts To love thee; but severer policy, Cyrus, p.r.o.nounces otherwise: she hears No stir of commerce on the sullen marge Of waters that along thy empire's verge Beat cheerless; no proud moles arise; no s.h.i.+ps, Freighted with Indian wealth, glide o'er the main From cape to cape. But on the desert sands Hurtles thy numerous host, seizing, in thought 130 Rapacious, the rich fields of Hindostan, As the poor savage fells the blooming tree To gain its tempting fruit; but woe the while!

For in the wilderness the noise is lost Of all thy archers;--they have ceased;--the wind Blows o'er them, and the voice of judgment cries: So perish they who grasp with avarice Another's blessed portion, and disdain That interchange of mutual good, that crowns The slow, sure toil of commerce. 140 It was thine, Immortal son of Macedon! to hang In the high fane of maritime renown The fairest trophies of thy fame, and s.h.i.+ne, THEN only like a G.o.d, when thy great mind Swayed in its master council the deep tide Of things, predestining th' eventful roll Of commerce, and uniting either world, Europe and Asia, in thy vast design.

Twas when the victor, in his proud career, 150 O'er ravaged Hindostan, had now advanced Beyond Hydaspes; on the flowery banks Of Hyphasis, with banners thronged, his camp Was spread. On high he bade the altars rise, The awful records to succeeding years Of his long march of glory, and to point The spot where, like the thunder rolled away, His army paused. Now shady eve came down; The trumpet sounded to the setting sun, That looked from his illumed pavilion, calm 160 Upon the scene of arms, as if, all still, And lovely as his parting light, the world Beneath him spread; nor clangours, nor deep groans, Were heard, nor victory's shouts, nor sighs, nor shrieks, Were ever wafted from a bleeding land, After the havoc of a conqueror's sword.

So calm the sun declined; when from the woods, That shone to his last beam, a Brahmin old Came forth. His streaming beard shone in the ray, That slanted o'er his feeble frame; his front 170 Was furrowed. To the sun's last light he cast A look of sorrow, then in silence bowed Before the conqueror of the world. At once All, as in death, was still. The victor chief Trembled, he knew not why; the trumpet ceased Its clangor, and the crimson streamer waved No more in folds insulting to the Lord Of the reposing world. The pallid front Of the meek man seemed for a moment calm, Yet dark and thronging thoughts appeared to swell 180 His beating heart. He paused--and then abrupt: Victor, avaunt! he cried, Hence! and the banners of thy pride Bear to the deep! Behold on high Yon range of mountains mingled with the sky!

It is the place Where the great Father of the human race Rested, when all the world and all its sounds Ceased; and the ocean that surrounds The earth, leaped from its dark abode 190 Beneath the mountains, and enormous flowed, The green earth deluging! List, soldier, list!

And dread His might no mortal may resist.

Great Bramah rested, hushed in sleep, When Hayagraiva[174] came, With mooned horns and eyes of flame, And bore the holy Vedas[175] to the deep.

Far from the sun's rejoicing ray, Beneath the huge abyss, the buried treasures lay.

Then foamed the billowy desert wide, 200 And all that breathed--they died, Sunk in the rolling waters: such the crime And violence of earth. But he above, Great Vishnu, moved with pitying love, Preserved the pious king, whose ark sublime Floated, in safety borne: For his stupendous horn, Blazing like gold, and many a rood Extended o'er the dismal flood, The precious freight sustained, till on the crest 210 Of Himakeel,[176] yon mountain high, That darkly mingles with the sky, Where many a griffin roams, the hallowed ark found rest.

And Heaven decrees that here Shall cease thy slaughtering spear: Enough we bleed, enough we weep, Hence, victor, to the deep!

Ev'n now along the tide I see thy s.h.i.+ps triumphant ride: I see the world of trade emerge 220 From ocean's solitude! What fury fires My breast! The flood, the flood retires,[177]

And owns its future sovereign! Urge Thy destined way; what countless pennants stream!

(Or is it but the shadow of a dream?) Ev'n now old Indus hails Thy daring prows in long array, That o'er the lone seas gliding, Around the sea-G.o.ds riding, Speed to Euphrates' sh.o.r.es their destined way. 230 Fill high the bowl of mirth!

From west to east the earth Proclaims thee Lord; shall the blue main Confine thy reign?

But tremble, tyrant; hark in many a ring, With language dread Above thy head, The dark a.s.soors[178] thy death-song sing.

What mortal blow Hath laid the king of nations low? 240 No hand: his own despair.-- But shout, for the canvas shall swell to the air, Thy s.h.i.+ps explore Unknown Persia's winding sh.o.r.e, While the great dragon rolls his arms in vain.

And see, uprising from the level main, A new and glorious city springs;-- Hither speed thy woven wings, That glance along the azure tide; Asia and Europe own thy might;-- 250 The willing seas of either world unite: Thy name shall consecrate the sands, And glittering to the sky the mart of nations stands.

He spoke, and rushed into the thickest wood.

With flas.h.i.+ng eyes the impatient monarch cried-- Yes, by the Lybian Ammon and the G.o.ds Of Greece, thou bid'st me on, the self-same track My spirit pointed; and, let death betide, My name shall live in glory!

At his word 260 The pines descend; the thronging masts aspire; The novel sails swell beauteous o'er the curves Of INDUS; to the Moderators' song[179]

The oars keep time, while bold Nearchus guides Aloft the gallies. On the foremost prow The monarch from his golden goblet pours A full libation to the G.o.ds, and calls By name the mighty rivers, through whose course He seeks the sea. To Lybian Ammon loud The songs ascend; the trumpets bray; aloft 270 The streamers fly, whilst on the evening wave Majestic to the main the fleet descends.

[173] Nebuchadnezzar, the destroyer of Tyre.

[174] Hayagraiva, the evil spirit of the ocean.

[175] The sacred writings of the Hindus.

[176] Caucasus.

[177] Alluding to the astonishment of Alexander's soldiers, when they first witnessed the effects of the tide.

[178] a.s.soors, the evil genii of India.

[179] Moderators were people stationed on the p.o.o.p, to excite with songs the maritime ardour, while the oars kept time.

BOOK THE FOURTH.

Stand on the gleaming Pharos,[180] and aloud Shout, Commerce, to the kingdoms of the earth; Shout, for thy golden portals are set wide, And all thy streamers o'er the surge, aloft, In pomp triumphant wave. The weary way That pale Nearchus pa.s.sed, from creek to creek Advancing slow, no longer bounds the track Of the adventurous mariner, who steers Steady, with eye intent upon the stars, To Elam's echoing port. Meantime, more high 10 Aspiring, o'er the Western main her towers Th' imperial city lifts, the central mart Of nations, and beneath the calm clear sky, At distance from the palmy marge, displays Her cl.u.s.tering columns, whitening to the morn.

Damascus' fleece, Golconda's gems, are there.

Murmurs the haven with one ceaseless hum; The hurrying camel's bell, the driver's song, Along the sands resound. Tyre, art thou fall'n?

A prouder city crowns the inland sea, 20 Raised by his hand who smote thee; as if thus His mighty mind were swayed to recompense The evil of his march through cities stormed, And regions wet with blood! and still had flowed The tide of commerce through the destined track, Traced by his mind sagacious, who surveyed The world he conquered with a sage's eye, As with a soldier's spirit; but a scene More awful opens: ancient world, adieu!

Adieu, cloud-piercing pillars, erst its bounds; 30 And thou, whose aged head once seemed to prop The heavens, huge Atlas, sinking fast, adieu!

What though the seas with wilder fury rave, Through their deserted realm; though the dread Cape,[181]

Sole-frowning o'er the war of waves below, That bar the seaman's search, horrid in air Appear with giant amplitude; his head Shrouded in clouds, the tempest at his feet, And standing thus terrific, seem to say, Incensed--Approach who dare! What though the fears 40 Of superst.i.tion people the vexed s.p.a.ce With spirits unblessed, that lamentations make To the sad surge beyond--yet Enterprise, Not now a darkling Cyclop on the sands Striding, but led by Science, and advanced To a more awful height, on the wide scene Looks down commanding.

Does a shuddering thought Of danger start, as the tumultuous sea Tosses below! Calm Science, with a smile, 50 Displays the wondrous index, that still points, With nice vibration tremulous, to the Pole.

And such, she whispers, is the just man's hope In this tempestuous scene of human things; Even as the constant needle to the North Still points; so Piety and meek-eyed Faith Direct, though trembling oft, their constant gaze Heavenward, as to their lasting home, nor fear The night, fast closing on their earthly way.

And guided by this index, thou shall pa.s.s 60 The world of seas secure. Far from all land, Where not a sea-bird wanders; where nor star, Nor moon appears, nor the bright noonday sun, Safe in the wildering storm, as when the breeze Of summer gently blows; through day, through night, Where sink the well-known stars, and others rise Slow from the South, the victor bark shall ride.

Henry! thy ardent mind first pierced the gloom Of dark disastrous ignorance, that sat Upon the Southern wave, like the deep cloud 70 That lowered upon the woody skirts, and veiled From mortal search, with umbrage ominous, Madeira's unknown isle. But look! the morn Is kindled on the shadowy offing; streaks Of clear cold light on Sagres' battlements Are cast, where Henry watches, listening still To the unwearied surge; and turning still His anxious eyes to the horizon's bounds.

A sail appears; it swells, it s.h.i.+nes: more high Seen through the dusk it looms; and now the hull 80 Is black upon the surge, whilst she rolls on Aloft--the weather-beaten s.h.i.+p--and now Streams by the watch-tower!

Zarco,[182] from the deep What tidings?

The loud storm of night prevailed, And swept our vessel from Bojador's rocks Far out to sea; a sylvan isle[183] received Our sails; so willed the ALMIGHTY--He who speaks, And all the waves are still! 90 Hail, HENRY cried, The omen: we have burst the sole barrier, (Prosper our wishes, Father of the world!) We speed to Asia.

Soon upon the deep The brave s.h.i.+p speeds again. Bojador's rocks Arise at distance, frowning o'er the surf, That boils for many a league without. Its course The s.h.i.+p holds on; till lo! the beauteous isle, That s.h.i.+elded late the sufferers from the storm, 100 Springs o'er the wave again. Here they refresh Their wasted strength, and lift their vows to Heaven, But Heaven denies their further search; for ah!

What fearful apparition, palled in clouds, For ever sits upon the Western wave, Like night, and in its strange portentous gloom Wrapping the lonely waters, seems the bounds Of Nature? Still it sits, day after day, The same mysterious vision. Holy saints!

Is it the dread abyss where all things cease? 110 Or haply hid from mortal search, thine isle, c.i.p.ango, and that unapproached seat Of peace, where rest the Christians whom the hate Of Moorish pride pursued? Whate'er it be, Zarco, thy holy courage bids thee on To burst the gloom, though dragons guard the sh.o.r.e,[184]

Or beings more than mortal pace the sands.

The favouring gales invite; the bowsprit bears Right onward to the fearful shade; more black The cloudy spectre towers; already fear 120 Shrinks at the view aghast and breathless. Hark!

'Twas more than the deep murmur of the surge That struck the ear; whilst through the lurid gloom Gigantic phantoms seem to lift in air Their misty arms; yet, yet--bear boldly on-- The mist dissolves;--seen through the parting haze, Romantic rocks, like the depictured clouds, s.h.i.+ne out; beneath a blooming wilderness Of varied wood is spread, that scents the air; Where fruits of "golden rind," thick interspersed 130 And pendent, through the mantling umbrage gleam Inviting. Cypress here, and stateliest pine, Spire o'er the nether shades, as emulous Of sole distinction where all nature smiles.

Some trees, in sunny glades alone their head And graceful stem uplifting, mark below The turf with shadow; whilst in rich festoons The flowery lianes braid their boughs; meantime Choirs of innumerous birds of liveliest song And brightest plumage, flitting through the shades, 140 With nimble glance are seen; they, unalarmed, Now near in airy circles sing, then speed Their random flight back to their sheltering bowers, Whose silence, broken only by their song, From the foundation of this busy world, Perhaps had never echoed to the voice, Or heard the steps, of Man. What rapture fired The strangers' bosoms, as from glade to glade They pa.s.sed, admiring all, and gazing still With new delight! 'Tis solitude around; 150 Deep solitude, that on the gloom of woods Primaeval fearful hangs: a green recess Now opens in the wilderness; gay flowers Of unknown name purple the yielding sward; The ring-dove murmurs o'er their head, like one Attesting tenderest joy; but mark the trees, Where, slanting through the gloom, the suns.h.i.+ne rests!

Beneath, a moss-grown monument appears, O'er which the green banana gently waves Its long leaf; and an aged cypress near 160 Leans, as if listening to the streamlet's sound, That gushes from the adverse bank; but pause-- Approach with reverence! Maker of the world, There is a Christian's cross! and on the stone A name, yet legible amid its moss,-- Anna!

In that remote, sequestered spot, Shut as it seemed from all the world, and lost In boundless seas, to trace a name, to mark The emblems of their holy faith, from all 170 Drew tears; while every voice faintly p.r.o.nounced, Anna! But thou, loved harp! whose strings have rung To louder tones, oh! let my hand, awhile, The wires more softly touch, whilst I rehea.r.s.e Her name and fate, who in this desert deep, Far from the world, from friends, and kindred, found Her long and last abode; there where no eye Might shed a tear on her remains; no heart Sigh in remembrance of her fate:-- She left 180 The Severn's side, and fled with him she loved O'er the wide main; for he had told her tales Of happiness in distant lands, where care Comes not; and pointing to the golden clouds That shone above the waves, when evening came, Whispered--Oh, are there not sweet scenes of peace, Far from the murmurs of this cloudy mart,-- Where gold alone bears sway,--scenes of delight, Where love may lay his head upon the lap Of innocence, and smile at all the toil 190 Of the low-thoughted throng, that place in wealth Their only bliss! Yes, there are scenes like these.

Leave the vain chidings of the world behind, Country, and hollow friends, and fly with me Where love and peace in distant vales invite.

What wouldst thou here! Oh, shall thy beauteous look Of maiden innocence, thy smile of youth, thine eyes Of tenderness and soft subdued desire, Thy form, thy limbs--oh, madness!--be the prey Of a decrepit spoiler, and for gold?-- 200 Perish his treasure with him. Haste with me; We shall find out some sylvan nook, and then, If thou shouldst sometimes think upon these hills, When they are distant far, and drop a tear, Yes--I will kiss it from thy cheek, and clasp Thy angel beauties closer to my breast; And whilst the winds blow o'er us, and the sun Sinks beautifully down, and thy soft cheek Reclines on mine, I will infold thee thus, And proudly cry, My friend--my love--my wife! 210 So tempted he, and soon her heart approved, Nay wooed, the blissful dream; and oft at eve, When the moon shone upon the wandering stream, She paced the castle's battlements, that threw Beneath their solemn shadow, and, resigned To fancy and to tears, thought it most sweet To wander o'er the world with him she loved.

Nor was his birth ign.o.ble, for he shone 'Mid England's gallant youth in Edward's reign: With countenance erect, and honest eye 220 Commanding (yet suffused in tenderness At times), and smiles that like the lightning played On his brown cheek,--so gently stern he stood, Accomplished, generous, gentle, brave, sincere,-- Robert a Machin. But the sullen pride Of haughty D'Arfet scorned all other claim To his high heritage, save what the pomp Of amplest wealth and loftier lineage gave.

Reckless of human tenderness, that seeks One loved, one honoured object, wealth alone 230 He wors.h.i.+pped; and for this he could consign His only child, his aged hope, to loathed Embraces, and a life of tears! Nor here His hard ambition ended; for he sought, By secret whispers of conspiracies, His sovereign to abuse, bidding him lift His arm avenging, and upon a youth Of promise close the dark forgotten gates Of living sepulture, and in the gloom Inhume the slowly-wasting victim. 240 So He purposed, but in vain; the ardent youth Rescued her--her whom more than life he loved, Ev'n when the horrid day of sacrifice Drew nigh. He pointed to the distant bark, And while he kissed a stealing tear that fell On her pale cheek, as trusting she reclined Her head upon his breast, with ardour cried-- Be mine, be only mine! the hour invites; Be mine, be only mine! So won, she cast 250 A look of last affection on the towers Where she had pa.s.sed her infant days, that now Shone to the setting sun. I follow thee, Her faint voice said; and lo! where in the air A sail hangs tremulous, and soon her feet Ascend the vessel's side: The vessel glides Down the smooth current, as the twilight fades, Till soon the woods of Severn, and the spot Where D'Arfet's solitary turrets rose, Is lost; a tear starts to her eye, she thinks 260 Of him whose gray head to the earth shall bend, When he speaks nothing--but be all, like death, Forgotten. Gently blows the placid breeze, And oh! that now some fairy pinnace light Might flit across the wave (by no seen power Directed, save when Love upon the prow Gathered or spread with tender hand the sail), That now some fairy pinnace, o'er the surge Silent, as in a summer's dream, might waft The pa.s.sengers upon the conscious flood 270 To regions bright of undisturbed joy!

But hark!

The wind is in the shrouds;--the cordage sings With fitful violence;--the blast now swells, Now sinks. Dread gloom invests the further wave, Whose foaming toss alone is seen, beneath The veering bowsprit.

Oh, retire to rest, Maiden, whose tender heart would beat, whose cheek Turn pale to see another thus exposed! 280 Hark! the deep thunder louder peals--Oh, save!-- The high mast crashes; but the faithful arm Of love is o'er thee, and thy anxious eye, Soon as the gray of morning peeps, shall view Green Erin's hills aspiring!