Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey

by Robert Southey

  Religious, faithful, excellently skill’d

  In war, and in his single person brave

  To all men’s admiration.

  LEVERETT.

  Yet I think

  Enthusiast as thou art, thou needest not

  Learn with how much alloy the richest vein

  Of virtues is too often found combined.

  ’Tis the condition of humanity,

  Frail and infirm at best; and they who boast

  Sinless perfection for their privilege,

  By the proud folly of the claim, confute

  Their own insane pretension.

  OLIVER.

  Surely, sir,

  My father had not in the school of Christ

  So poorly profited, nor lived so long

  A stranger to himself and his own heart,

  That be should hold this error.

  LEVERETT.

  Glad I am

  Thou seest it erroneous. Other notions

  He holds too near akin to it, the breed

  Of those pestiferous and portentous times

  Wherein his lot had-fallen. Even yet he thinks

  The kingdom of the saints shall be in strength

  Establish’d; finds in whatsoe’er occurs

  The accomplishment of some dark prophecy;

  Interprets, and expounds, and calculates

  That soon he shall be call’d to bear his part

  In setting up again the broken work

  Left incomplete by chosen Oliver.

  Thus he in one continuous dream of hope

  Beguiles the tedious years.

  OLIVER.

  Herein I see not

  What should impede my purpose. In the forest,

  The sense of freedom and security,

  Healing a wounded spirit, may restore

  To health his mind diseased.

  LEVERETT.

  But if the patient

  Reject the means of cure? He will not leave

  A place of refuge which the Lord prepared

  For him in his distress; and where full surely

  He trusts the call will reach him, to come forth

  And fight the battles of the good old cause,

  For which he doth endure contentedly

  This living martyrdom. Thy father thus

  Would answer thee; the malady is rooted

  In him so deeply now. It is become

  Essential in his being: long success,

  Beyond the most audacious of his thoughts,

  Fed and inflamed it first; long suffering since

  Hath as it were annealed it in his soul

  With stubborn fortitude, bewilder’d faith,

  Love, hatred, indignation, all strong passions,

  The bitterest feelings, and the tenderest thoughts,

  Yea, all his earthly, all his heavenly hopes.

  And Russel — for such sympathy alone

  Could, influence him to harbour long such guests —

  Fosters the old delusion which he shares,

  And ministers to it, even in his prayers.

  OLIVER.

  My father will not be persuaded then,

  You think?

  LEVERETT.

  I know he will not. There are minds,

  The course of which, as of some slow disease,

  Known by its fatal frequency too well,

  We see with helpless foresight, hopelessly.

  But, if he listen’d to thy moving words,

  What would it now avail? The wilderness

  Affords no shelter while the Indians,

  Fiercer than beasts, and wilier, are in arms.

  OLIVER.

  I have a passport for the wilderness

  Safer than statesmen could accord, or states

  Enforce with all their strength., The Indian woman,

  Of whom Sir Randolph in his mockery told thee:

  She and her children will be my protection

  Among the wildest tribes.

  LEVERETT.

  And was this thought, then,

  Thy motive for the act?

  OLIVER.

  I will not say

  It had so much of forethought: but the ways

  Of Providence open before me now.

  The impulse, which appear’d like foolishness

  To worldly censure, and which tremblingly

  I follow’d, for this issue was design’d:

  Oh doubt it not! And had I disobey’d

  The inward and unerring monitor

  That hour, infirm of faith, how had I then

  Disherited myself of this fair hope!

  LEVERETT.

  A Narhaganset woman, is she not?

  The widow of a Sagamore, who fell

  In the outbreak of these troubles?

  OLIVER.

  So they told me;

  A noted savage, Kawnacom his name.

  LEYERETT.

  Something, methinks, I see in this, wherein

  Our purposes may square, and my straight path

  Of policy with thy eccentric course

  Fall in and meet at the end. But, understand me,

  Rather would I for thine own sake dissuade thee,

  And for the sake of that dear Saint in heaven,

  From an adventure of remotest hope

  And imminent peril: but if thy resolve

  Be obstinate against all reason, blameless

  Then may I, both in her sight and in thine,

  Betide the issue how it will, promote

  The purpose which in vain I disapprove.

  One trust we have; all-able Providence —

  Will overrule our ways, and haply too,

  Knowing the upright intention, rectify

  Our erring judgments. Let the matter sleep

  Till I have taken counsel with my pillow

  And this night’s waking thoughts. See me tomorrow —

  As early as you will, before the stir

  Of business hath begun: and now farewell.

  VII. THE INDIAN WAR.

  WITH many an anxious thought opprest,

  From busy sleep more wearying than unrest,

  Hath Oliver arisen;

  And from his bed of feverish care,

  Glad to respire the cool fresh morning air,

  Gone forth as from a prison.

  The wakeful Governor received his guest;

  And ere the morning board was placed,

  They to and fro the garden paced

  In earnest talk, while Leverett told

  How mutual injuries of old,

  And mutual fears, the envenom’d will,

  Suspicions still conceal’d but festering still,

  And policy that shrunk from nothing ill,

  (Savage or civilised — oh shame

  To man’s perverted power! — in this the same,)

  Youth’s fiery courage, and eld’s rooted hate,

  Had brought the danger on, which now assail’d the state.

  The times were fearful; wheresoe’er around

  Among the Indian tribes he turn’d his view,

  False friends, or open enemies, were found.

  How wide their league he rather fear’d than knew.

  But this was understood,

  That feuds deliver’d down for many an age,

  From sire to son in sacred heritage,

  Wherewith their very nature seem’d imbued,

  Had been with dread solemnities foresworn

  And secret rites accurst, in fell intent

  That they should root the English from the land,

  And the last white man’s blood

  Be of their bond the seal and sacrament.

  In truth they were a formidable foe;

  Compared with ours, their numbers made them so;

  Crafty, deceitful, murderous, merciless:

  Yet with heroic qualities endued:

  Contempt of death, surpassing fortitude,

  Patience through all p
rivations, self-control

  Even such as saints and sages scarce attain,

  And a sustain’d serenity of soul,

  Which Fortune might assault or tempt in vain,

  Not to be moved by pleasure or by pain.

  OLIVER.

  Alas to think they have not long ere this

  Been link’d with you in Christian fellowship!

  LEVERETT.

  Look at divided Christendom! — at England;

  Her wounds, inflicted by sectarian rage,

  Open and festering, — never to be heal’d!

  Look at thy father’s house; a threefold cord

  Of brotherhood trebly disparted there;

  Then tell me, where may Christian fellowship

  In this wide world be found? Alas, my friend,

  I see if only in the Promised Land.

  From Pisgah’s summit, through the glass of Faith,

  Far in the regions of futurity.

  Yet something we have done, which — though I own it

  Far short of what true policy requires,

  And in the scale of national duty weighing

  Lighter than dust — may show we are not wholly

  The slaves of Mammon. Fretted as we have been

  By schisms, by rampant heresies disturb’d,

  And by that spiritual pride possess’d, whose touch,

  With influence lethal as an aspic’s tooth,

  Numbs the life-blood of charity, this England

  Hath sons, whose names, if there be any praise,

  Shall have their place with saints of primitive times

  Enroll’d, true heroes of humanity.

  OLIVER.

  Oh doubt not that their virtue and their prayers

  Will in this time of trial speed you more

  Than all your carnal strength!

  LEVERETT.

  That faith might better

  Beseem thine uncle of the seminary,

  The Oratorian, than thy father’s son.

  ‘A monk may put his trust in beads and sackcloth;

  But Oliver’s saints wore buff, and their right hands

  Wrought for themselves the miracles they ask’d for.

  Think not, young man, that I disparage prayer,

  Because I hold that he, who calls on Heaven

  For help against his temporal enemies,

  Then with most cause and surest hope prefers

  His supplication, when he best exerts

  The prudence and the strength which God hath given him.

  OLIVER.

  There is a strength in patience which exceedeth

  All other power; a prudence in the Gospel

  Passing, as needs it must, all human wisdom.

  That Gospel teaches passiveness and peace.

  LEVERETT.

  Patience he needs, Heaven knows! who hath to deal

  With one enamour’d of a young opinion,

  And like a giddy amorist pursuing

  The passionate folly, reckless where it leads him.

  Remember that you come not here to teach:

  Remember too, that something like respect

  Is due to years, and something to experience;

  Some deference to our station; some attention —

  And this at least will be allow’d — to one

  Who at all hazards has approved himself

  Thy mother’s friend, and would no less be thine.

  Abash’d at that reproof severe

  Stood Oliver, unable to abate

  The rising glow of shame that fired his cheek,

  Or check the starting tear.

  But then the Governor’s eye compassionate

  Even in reproof, — the pause he interposed,

  The low relenting tone wherein he closed

  His stern though fit authoritive strain,

  Temper’d the needful pain.

  “O best and kindest friend,

  O friend revered, I feel and own,

  Whether I spake in error or in truth,

  That thy rebuke is just,” replied the youth:

  “Forgive me! and no more will I offend;

  But listen, and in all things, that I may,

  Humbly and zealously obey.”

  LEVERETT.

  Hear then, and patiently, while I instruct thee

  Of things as yet unchronicled in books,

  But-bearing on this crisis, and the knowledge

  Whereof in thine adventure will be found

  Specially needful. When the English laid

  The poor foundations of our colony,

  (For poor indeed they seem’d; and yet I ween

  In happy hour a corner-stone was placed

  That ne’er shall be removed!) they found the land

  Contested sometimes, and sometimes possess’d

  In captious peace, between three powerful nations,

  Or rather families of tribes. Omitting

  The minor distributions (which are many

  Arid barbarous all), suffice it to name these

  In the order of their strength: the Pequods: first;

  The Narhagansets, unto whom belong

  Thy ransom’d captives; lastly, the Moheagans,

  Who occupied the immediate territory

  Whereon our sad adventurers set foot.

  With Massasoyt, chief Sachem of the latter,

  A league was made, of mutual benefit;

  For, under Providence, his only friendship,

  In the first hardships of the settlement,

  Saved them alive; and their alliance proved

  A shield against his enemies. This being

  The end to which he look’d, who was a man

  Advanced in years, far-sighted, honourable

  And of a spirit, which, if he had sway’d

  An European sceptre, might have blest

  The people over whom its rule extended,

  The league was faithfully on both sides observed;

  And ere his death the old man solemnly

  Renew’d it for his sons, who for themselves

  In their own persons ratified the engagement.

  But men and times were changed, when the elder youth

  Succeeded to his sire; for the Colonists,

  Now well acquainted with these Indian neighbours,

  Loath’d their unseemly usages, abhorr’d

  Their most incredible cruelty, despised

  Their easy ignorance, — and practised on it.

  I seek not to conceal our own offences:

  Compared with other nations, — even with England,

  Such as corrupted England long hath been,

  We are a sober, yea, a righteous people:

  But Trade, which in the mother-land is one

  Of many wheels, bearing a part alone,

  And that too but subordinate, in the movements

  Of a complicate and wonderful machine,

  Is in our simple order the main-spring

  That governs all. And where Trade rules, alas!

  Whatever name be worshipp’d in the temples,

  Mammon receives the heart’s idolatry,

  And is the god of the land.

  Our Indian friends

  Too soon had reason to abate their friendship;

  And politic interests, which had held them to us,

  Were loosen’d, when they saw their ancient foes,

  The dreaded Pequods, by our arms pursued

  In vigorous war, and rooted from the land,

  Till the name alone remain’d, with none to own it.

  This Alexander, so the youth was called,

  Finding that check removed, and being also

  By his father’s death set free from all control,

  Plotted against the English, in resentment

  Partly, no doubt, because strict pains in teaching

  (Less wise than well-intended) had been spent

  On his indocile and unwilling spirit;

  But ha
ving injuries also to provoke

  A haughty courage. Ere his schemes were ripe

  He was, on sure intelligence, arrested;

  And disappointed malice, joined with anger,

  Raising a fever in his heart and brain,

  Deliver’d him from our restraint by death.

  He left a brother, who inherited

  His rights and wrongs, — that Philip who is now

  The scourge and terror of the colony.

  Think not that these were names imposed in baptism:

  Upon that point the heart of Massasoyt

  Was harden’d; and his sons, like him, regarded

  With mingled hatred and contempt a faith

  They fail’d to understand. But it is held

  A mark of honour to bestow, a pledge

  Of friendship to receive, new appellations;

  Which here too, among savages, import

  Something of peerage, of deserved esteem,

  Or of imputed worth, the commonalty

  (Strange as such custom may appear) being nameless.

  My predecessor, with too true presage,

  Fix’d on these names, less for the Christian sound

  Which use hath given them, than because he saw

  In the one youth an enterprising temper,

  Ambitious of command; and in the other,

  More to be fear’d, a deep dissembling spirit,

  Which, if the time required, could brook its wrongs,

  And in all outward patience chew the while

  The cud of bitter thoughts. He being yet young,

  The station, which his sire had fill’d, devolved

  Upon a chief, who was alike approved

  In council and in war; the right remaining

  For Philip to succeed in course of years,

  If years should validate the acknowledged claim

  Of birthright; for that claim, among the Indians,

  Is held defeasible by ill-desert.

  During this lapse of time, old rivalries

  Revived between the two remaining tribes;

  Whom ere the Pequods’ power was crush’d, the sense

  Of danger from that common enemy

  Restrain’d in peace. Not to prolong my tale

  With details not required for thy instruction,

  The sum was this, that, as by treaty pledged

  And justice bound, (for the right cause was theirs,

  And interest also led us to uphold

  The weaker side,) we aided the Moheagans,

  Our first allies; and, when they took in battle

  The hostile leader Miantonnimo,