Methought I heard a stir of hasty feet,
And horses tramp’d and coaches roll’d along,
And there were busy voices in the street,
As if a multitude were hurrying on;
A stir it was which only could befall
Upon some great and solemn festival.
Such crowds I saw, and in such glad array,
It seem’d some general joy had fill’d the land;
Age had a sunshine on its cheek that day,
And children, tottering by the mother’s hand,
Too young to ask why all this joy should be,
Partook it, and rejoiced for sympathy.
The shops, that no dull care might intervene,
Were closed; the doors within were lined with heads;
Glad faces were at every window seen,
And from the cluster’d house-tops and the leads,
Others who took their stand in patient row,
Look’d down upon the crowds that swarm’d below.
And every one of all that numerous throng
On head or breast a marriage symbol bore;
The war-horse proudly as he paced along
Those joyous colours in his forelock wore,
And arch’d his stately neck as for delight,
To show his mane thus pompously bedight.
From every church the merry bells rung round
With gladdening harmony heard far and wide;
In many a mingled peal of swelling sound,
The hurrying music came on every side;
And banners from the steeples waved on high,
And streamers flutter’d in the sun and sky.
Anon the cannon’s voice in thunder spake,
Westward it came, the East return’d the sound;
Burst after burst the innocuous thunders brake,
And roll’d from side to side with quick rebound.
O happy land, where that terrific voice
Speaks but to bid all habitants rejoice!
Thereat the crowd rush’d forward one and all,
And I too in my dream was borne along.
Eftsoon, methought, I reach’d a festal hall,
Where guards in order ranged repell’d the throng,
But I had entrance through that guarded door.
In honour to the laureate crown I wore.
That spacious hall was hung with trophies round,
Memorials proud of many a well-won day:
The flag of France there trail’d toward the ground;
There in captivity her Eagles lay,
And under each in aye-enduring gold,
One well-known word its fatal story told.
There read I Nile conspicuous from afar,
And Egypt and Maida there were found;
And Copenhagen there and Trafalgar;
Vimeiro and Busaco’s day renown’d;
There too was seen Barrosa’s bloody name,
And Albuhera, dear-bought field of fame.
Yon spoils from boastful Massena were won;
Those Marmont left in that illustrious fight
By Salamanca, when too soon the sun
Went down, and darkness hid the Frenchman’s flight.
These from Vittoria were in triumph borne,
When from the Intruder’s head Spain’s stolen crown was torn.
These on Pyrene’s aweful heights were gain’d,
The trophies of that memorable day,
When deep with blood her mountain springs were stain’d.
Above the clouds and lightenings of that fray,
Wheeling afar the affrighted eagles fled;
At eve the wolves came forth and prey’d upon the dead.
And blood-stain’d flags were here from Orthies borne,
Trampled by France beneath her flying feet;
And what before Thoulouse from Soult were torn
When the stern Marshal met his last defeat,
Yielding once more to Britain’s arm of might,
And Wellington in mercy spared his flight.
There hung the Eagles which with victory flush’d,
From Fleurus and from Ligny proudly flew,
To see the Usurper’s high-swoln fortune crush’d
For ever on the field of Waterloo,..
Day of all days, surpassing in its fame
All fields of elder or of later name!
There too the painter’s universal art,
Each story told to all beholders’ eyes;
And Sculpture there had done her fitting part,
Bidding the forms perdurable arise
Of those great Chiefs, who in the field of fight
Had best upheld their country’s sacred right.
There stood our peerless Edward, gentle-soul’d,
The Sable Prince of chivalry the flower;
And that Plantagenet of sterner mould,
He who the conquer’d crown of Gallia wore;
And Blake, and Nelson, Glory’s favourite son,
And Marlborough there, and Wolfe and Wellington.
But from the statutes and the storied wall,
The living scene withdrew my wondering sense;
For with accordant pomp that gorgeous hall
Was fill’d; and I beheld the opulence
Of Britain’s Court,.. a proud assemblage there,
Her Statesmen, and her Warriors, and her Fair.
Amid that Hall of Victory side by side,
Conspicuous o’er the splendid company,
There sate a royal Bridegroom and his Bride;
In her fair cheek, and in her bright blue eye,
Her flaxen locks and her benignant mien,
The marks of Brunswick’s Royal Line were seen.
Of princely lineage and of princely heart,
The Bridegroom seem’d,.. a man approved in fight,
Who in the great deliverance bore his part,
And had pursued the recreant Tyrant’s flight
When driven from injured Germany he fled,
Bearing the curse of God and Man upon his head.
Guardant before his feet a Lion lay,
The Saxon Lion, terrible of yore,
Who in his wither’d limbs and lean decay,
The marks of long and cruel bondage bore;
But broken now beside him lay the chain,
Which gall’d and fretted late his neck and mane.
A Lion too was couch’d before the Bride;
That noble Beast had never felt the chain;
Strong were his sinewy limbs and smooth his hide,
And o’er his shoulders broad the affluent mane
Dishevell’d hung; beneath his feet were laid
Torn flags of France whereon his bed he made.
Full different were those Lions twain in plight,
Yet were they of one brood; and side by side
Of old, the Gallic Tyger in his might
They many a time had met, and quell’d his pride,
And made the treacherous spoiler from their ire
Cowering and crippled to his den retire.
Two Forms divine on either side the throne,
Its heavenly guardians, male and female stood;
His eye was bold, and on his brow there shone
Contempt of all base things, and pride subdued
To wisdom’s will: a warrior’s garb he wore,
And HONOUR was the name the Genius bore.
That other form was in a snow-white vest,
As well her virgin loveliness became;
Erect her port, and on her spotless breast
A blood-red cross was hung: FAITH was her name,
As by that sacred emblem might be seen,
And by her eagle eye, and by her dove-like mien.
Her likeness such to that robuster power,
That sure his sister she might have been deem’d,
Child of one womb at one auspicious hour.
Akin they were, yet n
ot as thus it seem’d,
For he of VALOUR was the eldest son,
From Arete in happy union sprung.
But her to Phronis Eusebeia bore,
She whom her mother Dice sent to earth;
What marvel then if thus their features wore
Resemblant lineaments of kindred birth,
Dice being child of Him who rules above,
VALOUR his earth-born son; so both derived from Jove.
While I stood gazing, suddenly the air
Was fill’d with solemn music breathing round;
And yet no mortal instruments were there,
Nor seem’d that melody an earthly sound,
So wonderously it came, so passing sweet,
For some strange pageant sure a prelude meet.
In every breast methought there seem’d to be
A hush of reverence mingled with dismay;
For now appear’d a heavenly company
Toward the royal seat who held their way;
A female Form majestic led them on,..
With aweful port she came, and stood before the Throne.
Gentle her mien and void of all offence;
But if aught wrong’d her she could strike such fear,
As when Minerva in her Sire’s defence
Shook in PhlegrÊan fields her dreadful spear.
Yet her benignant aspect told that ne’er
Would she refuse to heed a suppliant’s prayer.
The Trident of the Seas in her right hand,
The sceptre which that Bride was born to wield,
She bore, in symbol of her just command,
And in her left display’d the Red-Cross shield.
A plume of milk-white feathers overspread
The laurell’d helm which graced her lofty head.
Daughter of Brunswick’s fated line, she said,
While joyful realms their gratulations pay,
And ask for blessings on thy bridal bed,
We too descend upon this happy day;..
Receive with willing ear what we impart,
And treasure up our counsels in thy heart!
Long may it be ere thou art call’d to bear
The weight of empire in a day of woe!
Be it thy favour’d lot meantime to share
The joys which from domestic virtue flow,
And may the lessons which are now imprest,
In years of leisure, sink into thy breast.
Look to thy Sire, and in his steady way,
As in his Father’s he, learn thou to tread;
That thus, when comes the inevitable day,
No other change be felt than of the head
Which wears the crown; thy name will then be blest
Like theirs, when thou too shalt be call’d to rest.
Love peace and cherish peace; but use it so
That War may find thee ready at all hours;
And ever when thou strikest, let the blow
Be swift and sure: then put forth all the powers
Which God hath given thee to redress thy wrong,
And, powerful as thou art, the strife will not be long.
Let not the sacred Trident from thy hand
Depart, nor lay the falchion from thy side!
Queen of the Seas, and mighty on the land,
Thy power shall then be dreaded far and wide:
And trusting still in God and in the Right,
Thou mayest again defy the World’s collected might.
Thus as she ceased a comely Sage came on,
His temples and capacious forehead spread
With locks of venerable eld, which shone
As when in wintry morns on Skiddaw’s head
The cloud, the sunshine, and the snow unite,
So silvery, so unsullied, and so white.
Of Kronos and the Nymph Mnemosyne
He sprung, on either side a birth divine;
Thus to the Olympian Gods allied was he,
And brother to the sacred Sisters nine,
With whom he dwelt in interchange of lore,
Each thus instructing each for evermore.
They call’d him Praxis in the Olympian tongue,
But here on earth EXPERIENCE was his name.
Whatever things have pass’d to him were known,
And he could see the future ere it came;
Such foresight was his patient wisdom’s meed,..
Alas for those who his wise counsels will not heed!
He bore a goodly volume, which he laid
Between that princely couple on the throne.
Lo there my work for this great realm, he said,
My work, which with the kingdom’s growth has grown,
The rights, the usages, the laws wherein
Blessed above all nations she hath been.
Such as the sacred trust to thee is given,
So unimpair’d transmit it to thy line:
Preserve it as the choicest gift of Heaven,
Alway to make the bliss of thee and thine:
The talisman of England’s strength is there,..
With reverence guard it, and with jealous care!
The next who stood before that royal pair
Came gliding like a vision o’er the ground;
A glory went before him through the air,
Ambrosial odours floated all around,
His purple wings a heavenly lustre shed,
A silvery halo hover’d round his head.
The Angel of the English Church was this,
With whose divinest presence there appear’d
A glorious train, inheritors of bliss,
Saints in the memory of the good revered,
Who having render’d back their vital breath
To Him from whom it came, were perfected by Death.
Edward the spotless Tudor, there I knew,
In whose pure breast, with pious nurture fed,
All generous hopes and gentle virtues grew;
A heavenly diadem adorn’d his head,..
Most blessed Prince, whose saintly name might move
The understanding heart to tears of reverent love.
Less radiant than King Edward, Cranmer came,
But purged from persecution’s sable spot;
For he had given his body to the flame,
And now in that right hand, which flinching not
He proffer’d to the fire’s atoning doom,
Bore he the unfading palm of martyrdom.
There too came Latimer, in worth allied,
Who to the stake when brought by Romish rage,
As if with prison weeds he cast aside
The infirmity of flesh and weight of age,
Bow-bent till then with weakness, in his shroud
Stood up erect and firm before the admiring crowd.
With these, partakers in beatitude,
Bearing like them the palm, their emblem meet,
The Noble Army came, who had subdued
All frailty, putting death beneath their feet:
Their robes were like the mountain snow, and bright
As though they had been dipt in the fountain-springs of light.
For these were they who valiantly endured
The fierce extremity of mortal pain,
By no weak tenderness to life allured,
The victims of that hateful Henry’s reign,
And of the bloody Queen, beneath whose sway
Rome lit her fires, and Fiends kept holyday.
O pardon me, thrice holy Spirits dear,
That hastily I now must pass ye by!
No want of duteous reverence is there here;
None better knows nor deeplier feels than I
What to your sufferings and your faith we owe,
Ye valiant champions for the truth below!
Hereafter haply with maturer care,
(So Heaven permit) that reverence shall be shown.
Now of my vision I must n
eeds declare,
And how the Angel stood before the throne,
And fixing on that Princess as he spake
His eye benign, the aweful silence brake.
Thus said the Angel, Thou to whom one day
There shall in earthly guardianship be given
The English Church, preserve it from decay!
Ere now for that most sacred charge hath Heaven
In perilous times provided female means,
Blessing it beneath the rule of pious Queens.
Bear thou that great Eliza in thy mind,
Who from a wreck this fabric edified;
And Her who to a nation’s voice resign’d,
When Rome in hope its wiliest engines plied,
By her own heart and righteous Heaven approved,
Stood up against the Father whom she loved.
Laying all mean regards aside, fill Thou
Her seats with wisdom and with learned worth;
That so whene’er attack’d, with fearless brow
Her champions may defend her rights on earth;
Link’d is her welfare closely with thine own,
One fate attends the Altar and the Throne!
Think not that lapse of ages shall abate
The inveterate malice of that Harlot old;
Fallen though thou deem’st her from her high estate,
She proffers still the envenom’d cup of gold,
And her fierce Beast, whose names are Blasphemy,
The same that was, is still, and still must be.
The stern Sectarian in unnatural league
Joins her to war against their hated foe;
Error and Faction aid the bold intrigue,
And the dark Atheist seeks her overthrow,
While giant Zeal in arms against her stands,
Barks with an hundred mouths; and lifts an hundred hands.
Built on a rock, the fabric may repel
Their utmost rage, if all within be sound:
But if within the gates Indifference dwell,
Woe to her then! there needs no outward wound!
Through her whole frame benumb’d, a lethal sleep,
Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey Page 186