12. But soon he knew himself the most unfit Of men to herd with Man; with whom he held His thoughts to others, though his soul was quell'd 100 13. Where rose the mountains, there to him were friends; Of his land's tongue, which he would oft forsake 14. Like the Chaldean, he could watch the stars, 105 IIO 115 120 Its spark immortal, envying it the light To which it mounts, as if to break the link That keeps us from yon heaven which woos us to its brink. 125 15. But in Man's dwellings he became a thing Restless and worn, and stern and wearisome, 130 135 16. Self-exiled Harold wanders forth again, With nought of hope left, but with less of gloom; That all was over on this side the tomb, 140 Which, though 't were wild,-as on the plunder'd wreck 17. Stop!-for thy tread is on an Empire's dust! 18. And Harold stands upon this place of skulls, The grave of France, the deadly Waterloo ! 145 150 155 Then tore with bloody talon the rent plain, Pierced by the shaft of banded nations through; 160 He wears the shatter'd links of the world's broken chain. 19. Fit retribution! Gaul may champ the bit And foam in fetters;-but is Earth more free? 165 Or league to teach all kings true sovereignty? Shall we, who struck the Lion down, shall we 170 And servile knees to thrones? No; prove before ye praise! 20. If not, o'er one fallen despot boast no more! 21. There was a sound of revelry by night, The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ; 175 .180 185 Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! 22. Did ye not hear it?-No; 't was but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet 23. Within a window'd niche of that high hall Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear I 190 195 200 205 24. Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, 210 215 And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise! 25. And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips-The foe! they come ! they come!' 26. And wild and high the 'Cameron's gathering' rose! 220 225 Savage and shrill ! But with the breath which fills 230 With the fierce native daring which instils The stirring memory of a thousand years, And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears! 27. And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, 235 Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valour, rolling on the foe 240 And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low. 28. Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, 245 The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent 250 255 Which her own clay shall cover, heap'd and pent, Rider and horse,-friend, foe,-in one red burial blent! 29. Their praise is hymn'd by loftier harps than mine: Yet one I would select from that proud throng, Partly because they blend me with his line, And partly that I did his sire some wrong, And partly that bright names will hallow song; And his was of the bravest, and when shower'd The death-bolts deadliest the thinn'd files along, Even where the thickest of war's tempest lower'd, They reach'd no nobler breast than thine, young gallant Howard! 260 30. There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee, And mine were nothing had I such to give ; But when I stood beneath the fresh green tree, With fruits and fertile promise, and the Spring With all her reckless birds upon the wing, I turn'd from all she brought to those she could not bring. 270 31. I turn'd to thee, to thousands, of whom each And one as all a ghastly gap did make In his own kind and kindred, whom to teach Forgetfulness were mercy for their sake; The Archangel's trump, not Glory's, must awake 275 Those whom they thirst for; though the sound of Fame May for a moment soothe, it cannot slake The fever of vain longing, and the name So honour'd but assumes a stronger, bitterer claim. |