Читать книгу Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine — Volume 57, No. 351, January 1845 - Various - Страница 5

Weep for the living! mourn no more

Thy children slain on Moskwa's shore,

Cut off from evil! want, and anguish,

And care, for ever brooding and in vain;

No more to be beguiled! no more to languish

Under the yoke of labour and of pain!

Their doom of future joy or woe

For good or evil done below,

The Judge of all the earth will order rightly!

Flee winding error through the flowery way,

To daily follow truth! to ponder nightly

On time, and death, and judgment, nearer day by day!

Bewail thy bane, deluded France,

Vain-glory, overweening pride,

And harrying earth with eagle glance,

Ambition, frantic homicide!

Lament, of all that armed throng

How few may reach their native land!

By war and tempest to be borne along,

To strew, like leaves, the Scythian strand?

Before Jehovah who can stand?

His path in evil hour the dragon cross'd!

He casteth forth his ice! at his command

The deep is frozen! — all is lost!

For who, great God, is able to abide thy frost?

Elate of heart, and wild of eye,

Crested horror hurtles by;

Myriads, hurrying north and east,

Gather round the funeral feast!

From lands remote, beyond the Rhine,

Running o'er with oil and wine,

Wide-waving over hill and plain,

Herbage green, and yellow grain;

From Touraine's smooth irriguous strand,

Garden of a fruitful land,

To thy dominion, haughty Rhone,

Leaping from thy craggy throne;

From Alp and Apennine to where

Gleam the Pyrenees in air;

From pastoral vales and piny woods,

Rocks and lakes and mountain-floods,

The warriors come, in armed might

Careering, careless of the right!

Their leader he who sternly bade

Freedom fall; and glory fade,

The scourge of nations ripe for ruin,

Planning oft their own undoing!

But who in yonder swarming host

Locust-like from coast to coast,

Reluctant move, an alien few,

Sullen, fierce, of sombre hue,

Who, forced unhallow'd arms to bear,

Mutter to the moaning air,

Whose curses on the welkin cast

Edge the keen and icy blast!

Iberia, sorrow bade thee nurse

Those who now the tyrant curse,

Whose wrongs for vengeance cry aloud!

Lo, the coming of a cloud!

To burst in wrath, and sweep away

Light as chaff the firm array!

To rack with pain, or lull to rest

Both oppressor and oppress'd.

Is it the wind from tower to tower

Low-murmuring at midnight hour?

Athwart the darkness light is stealing,

Portentous, red with unrelenting ire,

Inhuman deeds, and secrets dark revealing!

Ye guilty, who may quench the kindled fire!

Fall, city of the Czars, to rise

Ennobled by self-sacrifice,

Than tower and temple higher and more holy!

The wilful king appointed o'er mankind

To plague the lofty heart, and prove the lowly,

Is fled! — Avenger, mount the chariot of the wind!

Be thine, to guide the rapid scythe,

To blind with snow the frozen sun,

Against th' invader doomed to writhe,

To rouse the Tartar, Russ, and Hun!

Bid terror to the battle ride!

Indignant honour, burning shame,

Revenge, and hate, and patriotic pride!

But not the quick unerring aim

Of volley'd thunder winged with flame,

Nor famine keener than the bird of prey,

Nor death — avail the hard of heart to tame!

Blow wind, and pierce the dire array,

Flung, drifted by thy breath, athwart the frozen way!

Before the blast as flakes of snow

Drive blindly, reeling to and fro,

Or down the river black and deep

Melt — so the mighty sink to sleep!

Like Asshur, never more to boast!

Or Pharaoh, sunk with all his host!

So perish who would trample down

The rights of freedom, for renown!

So fall, who born and nurtured free

Adore the proud on bended knee!

Roll, Beresina, 'neath the bridge

Of death! rise Belgium's fatal ridge!

Rise, lonely rock in a wide ocean,

To curb each haughty mad emotion!

To prove, while force and genius fail,

That truth is great, and will prevail!

The hour is coming — seize the hour!

Divide the spoil, the prey devour!

Howl o'er the dead and dying, cry

All ye that raven earth and sky!

With beak and talon rend the prey,

Track carnage on her gory way,

To chide o'er many a gleamy bone

The moon, or with the wind to moan!

Benumb'd with cold, by torture wrung,

To winter leave the famine-clung,

O thou for whom they toil and bleed,

Deserted in their utmost need!

Hear, hear them faithful unto death

Invoke thee with the fleeting breath,

And feel (for human still thou art)

Ruth touch that adamantine heart!

Survive the storm and battle-shock,

To linger on th' Atlantic rock!

From ghastly dream, from death-like trance

Awake to woe, devoted France!

To care and trouble, toil and pain,

Till glory be acknowledged vain,

And martial pomp a mere parade,

And war, the bravo's bloody trade!

A beacon o'er the tide of time

Be thou, to point the wreck of crime!

The spoiler spoil'd, from empire hurl'd,

The dread and pity of the world!

O then, by tribulation tried,

Abjuring envy, hate, and pride,

Warn'd of the dying hour foretold

Of earth and heaven together roll'd,

Revering each prophetic sign

Of judgment and of love divine,

Bow down, and hide thee in the dust,

And own the retribution just;

So may contrition, prayer, and praise,

Preserve thee in the latter days!