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I heard the mailed Monarch's troublous cry“ Ah! wherefore does the Northern Conqueress stay? “Groans not her chariot on it's onward way?"
Fly, mailed Monarch, fly!
No more on Murder's lurid face
Manes of th' unnumber'd slain !
Ye that gasp'd on WARSAW's plain!
Fell in conquest's glutted hour,
Sudden blasts of triumph swelling,
Rush around her narrow dwelling! The exterminating fiend is fled
(Foul her life, and dark. her doom). Mighty armies of the dead,
Dance like death-fires round her tomb !
Departing Year! 'twas on no earthly shore
My soul beheld thy vision! Where alone,
Voiceless and stern, before the cloudy throne, Aye MEMORY sits : thy robe inscrib'd with gore, With many an unimaginable groan
Thou storied’st thy sad hours ! Silence ensued,
Deep silence o'er th' etherial multitude,
From the choired Gods advancing,
Hush'd were harp and song: Till wheeling round the throne the LAMPADS seven, (The mystic Words of Heaven)
Permissive signal make; The fervent Spirit bow'd, then spread his wings and spake!
“ Thou in stormy blackness throning
“ Love and uncreated Light,
“ By the Earth's unsolaced groaning,
“ Seize thy terrors, Arm of might! “ By Peace, with proffer'd insult scar'd,
“ Masked Hate and envying Scorn!
By Years of Havoc yet unborn ! “ And Hunger's bosom to the frost-winds bared! “ But chief by Afric's wrongs,
“Strange, horrible, and foul ! “ By what deep guilt belongs « To the deaf Synod, full of gifts and lies ! “ By Wealth's insensate laugh! by Torture's howl!
“Avenger, rise ! • For ever shall the thankless Island scowl,
“ Her quiver full, and with unbroken bow? “Speak! from thy storm-black Heaven O speak aloud !
" And on the darkling foe “ Open thine eye of fire from some uncertain cloud !
“ O dart the flash ! O rise and deal the blow ! “ The Past to thee, to thee the Future cries ! “ Hark! how wide Nature joins her groans below!
“Rise, God of Nature ! rise."
The voice had ceased, the vision fled;
And ever, when the dream of night
My ears throb hot; my eye-balls start;
Wild is the tempest of my heart ;
The Soldier on the war-field spread,
Death-like he dozes among heaps of dead ! (The strife is o'er, the day-light fled,
And the night-wind clamours hoarse ! See ! the starting wretch's head
Lies pillow'd on a brother's corse !)
Not yet enslav'd, not wholly vile,
Echo to the bleat of flocks;
(Those grassy hills, those glitt'ring dells
Proudly ramparted with rocks)
Has social Quiet lov'd thy shore;
Nor ever proud Invader's rage
Abandon'd of Heaven ! mad Avarice thy guide,
Shall hear DESTRUCTION, like a vulture, scream!
Strange-eyed DESTRUCTION ! who with many a dream Of central fires thro' nether seas upthund'ring
Soothes her fierce solitude; yet as she lies By livid fount, or red volcanic stream,
If ever to her lidless dragon-eyes,
O Albion ! thy predestin'd ruins rise, The fiend-hag on her perilous couch doth leap, Muttering distemper'd triumph in her charmed sleep.