And the escutcheoned and emblazoned tombs Of heroes yawned, and earthquakes rent in twain The sepulchres of kings; as all the hosts Of crowned tyrants, or mailed conquerors, Who had from age to age quaffed human blood Like wine, and scattered human flesh like dust, Strew'd by the hurricane at pitch of noon; Rose, at the call of God's arch-minister, In all the mockery of regal pomp;
Cold, fleshless, shrunken, marrowless, and dry; With dimm'd tiaras on their skeleton brows, And rotten sceptres in their bony gripe,
And fretted swords, blood-crusted in their hands, And as they tore their cerements in twain, With dismal joy, their hollow eye-sockets, But now the charnelled bats lone hiding place, Drank day again; and oh! their lipless jaws, Grinning like wild hyenas in a storm, Did seem to breathe the bright and vital air, And they became once more as living souls. Awhile they trembled at the strange array Set forth in heaven; then suddenly they formed Themselves in deathlike phalanx, cramped and clasped
Together like a bastion, and shook high, As in defiance and the lust of rage,
Their shadowy arms, and sprang forth wild And headlong to the fight with frantic yells,
Like those with which fierce troops of jackalls bay The clear cold moon on deserts of hard snow.
Onwards they came; then the black clouds gave way Before the temple, and, like portal gates,
Stood wide. The trampling now of many steeds
Grew louder, and the savage din of war
More fierce weapons gleamed bright in the far ether, And polished helm and glittering crest flashed back The light of seraph eyes. Then, cased in mail, And under the sublime o'er-shadowings Of blazoned banner, and soul-moving plume, That dreadful host came onwards, in high pomp, As flushed with recent victory. Alone, Though in the midst of this immense conclave, Rode One, upon a horse of blood, all red And gory, from the greaves unto the helm ; And his gigantic arm, all stripped and bare, Scarred deep by many a wound, shook in the face Of heaven, and waved terrific over earth
A ponderous sword; for it was his to take Peace from her, and to scourge her with the curse Of WAR. Onwards he came, with maniac look, And bloodshot eye-balls starting, and wild foam Dried on his beard. With brand and falchion out, And sabre flashing through the kindling air, His minions followed him, and shouted loud; While the grim hosts, that had so lately wrenched Apart the grave's clenched jaws, the tyrant kings And conquerors of old, joined their thick ranks, And plunged forth towards earth. On earth they
And he, the mighty one, whose withering face Was as the blistering sirock, whose look, Falling on cities, turned them into ashes, And upon rivers, changed them into blood,
Rode in the midst, waving his flesh-gorged sword, Even as a signal, stern and terrible,
For Havock, whose blind fury knows no end, To make her tiger spring.
Through all the earth, a frightful conflict waged; Nation on nation rose, proud armaments
Stood out from shore to shore, and with the stern Mandates of their loud cannon hushed the roar Of the indignant main, whose emerald face Glowed like a blood-red ruby; rock and hill Stood crowned with marshalled armies, mountain
Bristled with glittering spears, and armed hosts Poured from their summits, like down-rushing floods Whose course is desolation. The earth shook And rocked beneath their tread, the green grass died, The glorious flowers of summer, the kind grain, That bows in adoration towards heaven In the autumnal breeze, fell down before The trampling of steeds, and deadly crush
Of mailed feet. Then slaughtering host met host, With shock terrific, lunge, and thrust, and stab, And anvil-blow, felled their ten thousands. DEATH Sat in a high regal state upon the breach, With hell's own engines,the dread cannon round him, Piled over bodies and dissevered limbs,
Quivering with lingering life. Carnage astride, On snorting Vengeance, with an arm of fire, Plunged to the terrible charge, and came back proud,
O'er mountains of the dead, and through a sea Of blood.
O'er the wild and maniac world This havoc spread, and scarce a spot was known Where WAR was not. The sun rose day by day Upon fresh feats of slaughter, and new scenes
Of strife and massacre, engendering the worm In the unburied heaps of slain. Calm night, That might have thrown her veil of darkness o'er Such cursed work, was made to glow like day, By burning cities, throwing their red light Abroad upon the thick sulphuric air, Half-fraught with pestilence. Then savage lust, Whose deeds make murder seem a virtue, and The slaughtering of the old in sanctuary, Or tossing up young children in the air, And catching them on spears, but as the acts Of very pity; multiplied foul sin
Beyond hell's loathing. Then snapt in twain the ties Of kindred, and dear nature's holy bond
Was cancell'd; for the murderous soul of him, Who first broke through the womb, burnt in each heart
Like fire; and all men thirsted now for blood, As it were water, to allay the heat
That parched them. Brother now on brother fell Remorseless, and the dagger ripped its way From heart to heart, till the arm sank unnerved, Or palsied by the phrensy of revenge. The stripling son upon the hoary father Turned, fiend-like, clutching his accursed hand In the gray hairs, and cleaving to the chine Without a shudder; while the father rushed Upon the son, and plunged the deadly steel, Up to the hilt, in his fierce bosom. Some
Were witnessed weltering in their gore, with hands Cramped at each other's throats, and strangled eyes Full starting from their sockets, but yet fixed In glaring malice on each other, through Death's bitterest convulsions.
Of horror that congeals the very blood, The multiform and ever-changing groups, In sweating wrath contending, still were known And made familiar to each distant clime: The tug, the struggle, and the deadly strain, The piercing whoop, and tearing of the scalp; The crashing of artillery, and clang
And clash of battered mail, did almost seem To be eternal. Thus the spell of him, Loosed by the opening of the second seal, Made earth one din of butchery, and changed Men into demons, hearts into volcanoes, And sent abroad the spirits of mankind In ceaseless enmity and deadly strife.
DEAR-BOUGHT GLORIES.
-O! WAR, what art thou?
After the brightest conquest, what remains Of all thy glories? For the vanquish'd, chains; For the proud victor-what?-Alas! to reign O'er desolated nations, a drear waste,
By one man's crime, by one man's lust of power, Unpeopled! Naked plains and ravaged fields Succeed to smiling harvests, and the fruits Of peaceful olive, luscious fig, and vine. Here rifled temples are the cavern'd dens Of savage beasts, or haunt of birds obscene; There populous cities darken in the sun, And, in the general wreck, proud palaces Lie undistinguished, save by the dim smoke Of recent conflagration. When the song
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