XVI. Self-exiled Harold wanders forth again, With nought of hope left, but with less of gloom; That all was over on this side the tomb, Had made Despair a smilingness assume, Which, though 'twere wild,—as on the plunder'd wreck When mariners would madly meet their doom With draughts intemperate on the sinking deck,— Did yet inspire a cheer, which he forbore to check. XVII. Stop!-for thy tread is on an Empire's dust! Thou first and last of fields! king-making Victory? XVIII. And Harold stands upon this place of skulls, He wears the shatter'd links of the world's broken chain. XIX. Fit retribution! Gaul may champ the bit And foam in fetters;-but is Earth more free? Did nations combat to make One submit; Or league to teach all kings true sovereignty? Shall we, who struck the Lion down, shall we And servile knees to thrones? No; prove before ye praise! XX. If not, o'er one fallen despot boast no more! In vain fair cheeks were furrow'd with hot tears For Europe's flowers long rooted up before The trampler of her vineyards; in vain years Have all been borne, and broken by the accord Such as Harmodius (2) drew on Athens' tyrant lord. XXI. There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage-bell; (3) But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! XXII. Did ye not hear it?-No; 'twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! Arm! it is-it is the cannon's opening roar! XXIII. Within a window'd niche of that high hall And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear; XXIV. Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon nights so sweet such awful morn could rise? XXV. And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; Or whispering, with white lips-" The foe! They come ! they come!" |