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ning to 700 no uno to my
Close his eyes; his work is done!
What to him is freend on foemans,
Lay him low, lay him how,
Geo. Boken POEMS OF PEACE AND WAR.
WAR FOR THE SAKE OF PEACE. In darkness, and pure and spangling snow
| Gleams faintly through the gloom that gathers FROM "BRITANNIA.” O FIRST of human blessings, and supreme !
Hark to that roar, whose swift and deafening Fair Peace! how lovely, how delightful thou !
peals By whose wide tie the kindred sons of men
In countless echoes through the mountains ring, Like brothers live, in amity combined
Startling pale midnight on her starry throne ! And unsuspicious faith ; while honest toil
Now swells the intermingling din ; the jar Gives every joy, and to those joys a right
Frequent and frightful of the bursting bomb; Which idle, barbarous rapine but usurps.
The falling beam, the shriek, the groan, the Pure is thy reign.
The ceaseless clangor, and the rush of men What would not, Peace! the patriot bear for iner
Om | Inebriate with rage ; – loud, and more loud thee?
The discord grows; till pale death shuts the What painful patience? What incessant care ?
scene, Whiat mixed anxiety? What sleepless toil ?
And o’er the conqueror and the conquered draws E'en from the rash protected, what reproach ?
His cold and bloody shroud. – Of all the men For he thy value knows; thy friendship he
Whom day's departing beam saw blooming there, To human nature : but the better thou,
In proud and vigorous health ; of all the hearts The richer of delight, sometimes the more
That beat with anxious life at sunset there, Inevitable WAR, — when ruffian force
How few survive, how few are beating now ! Awakes the fury of an injured state.
All is deep silence, like the fearful calm E’en the good patient man whom reason rules,
That slumbers in the storm's portentous pause ; Roused by bold insult and injurious rage,
Save when the frantic wail of widowed love With sharp and sudden check the astonished sons
| Comes shuddering on the blast, or the faint moan Of violence confounds ; firn as his cause
With which some soul bursts from the frame of His bolder heart; in awful justice clad;
clay His eyes effulging a peculiar fire :
Wrapt round its struggling powers.
The gray morn To dare the sacred vengeance of the just. Dawns on the mournful scene ; the sulphurous
smoke Then ardent rise! O, great in vengeance rise! Before the icy wind slow rolls away, O'erturn the proud, teach rapine to restore ; And the bright beams of frosty morning dance And, as you ride sublimely round the world,
Along the spangling snow. There tracks of blood Make every vessel stoop, make every state Even to the forest's depth, and scattered arms, At once their welfare and their duty know. And lifeless warriors, whose hard lineaments
Death's self could change not, mark the dreadful
Of the outsallying victors ; far behind,
Black ashes note where their proud city stood.
day Blotting the silver moon? The stars are quenched | Waves o’er a warrior's tomb.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
FROM "PARADISE LOST," BOOK VI.
War is the statesman's game, the priest's delight, | And inextinguishable rage. All heaven
Deeds of eternal fame Guards, garbed in blood-red livery, surround Were done, but infinite : for wide was spread Their palaces, participate the crimes
That war,'and various: sometimes on firm ground
Forthwith (behold the excellence, the power
(For earth hath this variety from heaven,
Light as the lightning glimpse they ran, they
flew, THE ARRAY.
From their foundations loosening to and fro, Now went forth the morn,
They plucked the seated hills, with all their load, Such as in highest heaven, arrayed in gold
| Rocks, waters, woods, and by the shaggy tops
Uplifting bore them in their hands : amaze, Empyreal; from before her vanished night,
Be sure, and terror, seized the rebel host, Shot through with orient beams; when all the
When coming towards them so dread they saw plain
The bottom of the mountains upward turned, Covered with thick em battled squadrons bright, Chariots, and flaming arms, and fiery steeds,
. . . . and on their heads Reflecting blaze on blaze, first met his view.
Main promontories flung, which in the air
armned; The apostate in his sun-bright chariot sat,
Their armor helped their harm, crushed in and Idol of majesty divine, enclosed
bruised With flaming cherubim, and golden shields; Into their substance pent, which wrought them Then lighted from his gorgeous throne, for now
pain 'Twixt host and host but narrow space was left, | Implacable, and many a dolorous groan ; A dreadful interval, and front to îront
Long struggling underneath, ere they could wind Presented stood in terrible array
Out of such prison, though spirits of purest light, Of hideous length : before the cloudy van,
Purest at first, now gross by sinning grown. On the rough edge of battle ere it joined,
The rest, in imitation, to like arms Satan, with vast and haughty strides advanced,
Betook them, and the neighboring hills uptore : Came towering, armed in adamant and gold.
So hills amid the air encountered hills,
Hurled to and fro with jaculation dire,
That underground they fought in dismal shade ;
Infernal noise ! war seemed a civil game The archangel trumpet; through the vast of 10
+ of To this uproar; horrid confusion heaped
Upon confusion rose.
Of his fierce chariot rolled, as with the sound Of fiery darts in flaming volleys flew,
Of torrent floods, or of a numerous host. And flying vaulted either host with fire. He on his impious foes right onward drove, So under fiery cope together rushed
Gloomy as night: under his burning wheels Both battles main, with ruinous assault The steadfast empyrean shook throughout,
Al but the throne itself of God. Full soon For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the Among them he arrived ; in his right hand
blast, Grasping ten thousand thunders, which he sent And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; Before him, such as in their souls infixed And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and Plagues : they, astonished, all resistance lost,
chill, All courage ; down their idle weapons dropt; And their hearts but once heaved, and forever O'er shields, and helms, and helmed heads he grew still !
rode Of thrones and mighty seraphim prostráte, And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, That wished the mountains now might be again But through it there rolled not the breath of his Thrown on them, as a shelter from his ire.
pride : Nor less on either side tempestuous fell
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the His arrows, from the fourfold-visaged Four
turf, Distinct with eyes, and from the living wheels And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. Distinct alike with multitude of eyes; One spirit in them ruled ; and every eye
And there lay the rider distorted and pale, Glared lightning, and shot forth pernicious fire
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his Among the accursed, that withered all their
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, strength, And of their wonted vigor left them drained,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. Exhausted, spiritless, afflicted, fallen.
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, Yet half his strength he put not forth, but And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; checked
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the His thunder in mid volley; for he meant
sword, Not to destroy, but root them out of heaven :
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! The overthrown he raised, and as a herd
CATILINE TO THE ROMAN ARMY.
FROM "CATILINE," ACT V. SC. 2.
I would speak with them ! threw
(The officer gocs.) Down from the verge of heaven ; eternal wrath Burnt after them to the bottomless pit.
Now, Hope! away, - and welcome gallant
That makes wounds light, and battle's crimson
toil The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the s
Seem but a sport, — and welcome the cold bed,
Where soldiers with their upturned faces lie, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and
And welcome wolf's and vulture's hungry throats, gold ;
That make their sepulchres ! We fight to-night. And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
(The soldiery enter.) When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Centurions! all is ruined! I disdain Galilee.
To hide the truth from you. The die is thrown !
And now, let each that wishes for long life Like the leaves of the forest when summer is Put up his sword, and kneel for peace to Rome. green,
Ye all are free to go. What! no man stirs ! That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Not one! a soldier's spirit in you all ? Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath Give me your hands! (This moisture in iny eyes blown,
Is womanish, -'t will pass.) My noble hearts ! That host on the morrow lay withered and Well have you chosen to die! For, in my mind, strown.
The grave is better than o'erburdened life;