This is good, and spells blood. [To the Chorus of the Years.] I assume that It means to let us carry out this invasion with pleasing slaughter, so as not to disappoint my hope? SEMICHORUS I OF THE YEARS [aerial music] We carry out? Nay, but should we Ordain what bloodshed is to be it! SEMICHORUS II The Immanent, that urgeth all, Rules what may or may not befall! SEMICHORUS I Ere systemed suns were globed and lit The slaughters of the race were writ, SEMICHORUS II And wasting wars, by land and sea, Fixed, like all else, immutably! SPIRIT SINISTER Well; be it so. My argument is that War makes rattling good history; but Peace is poor reading. So I back Bonaparte for the reason that he will give pleasure to posterity. SPIRIT OF THE PITIES Gross hypocrite! CHORUS OF THE YEARS We comprehend him not. [The day breaks over the heathery upland, on which the beacon is still burning. The morning reveals the white surface of a highway which, coming from the royal watering-place beyond the hills, stretched towards the outskirts of the heath and passes away eastward.] DUMB SHOW Moving figures and vehicles dot the surface of the road, all progressing in one direction, away from the coast. In the foreground the shapes appear as those of civilians, mostly on foot, but many in gigs and tradesmen's carts and on horseback. When they reach an intermediate hill some pause and look back; others enter on the next decline landwards without turning their heads. From the opposite horizon numerous companies of volunteers, in the local uniform of red with green facings,[5] are moving coastwards in companies; as are also irregular bodies of pikemen without uniform; while on the upper slopes of the downs towards the shore regiments of the line are visible, with cavalry and artillery; all passing over to the coast. At a signal from the Chief Intelligences two Phantoms of Rumour enter on the highway in the garb of country-men. FIRST PHANTOM [to Pedestrians] Wither so fast, good neighbours, and before breakfast, too? Empty bellies be bad to vamp on. FIRST PEDESTRIAN He's landed west'ard, out by Abbot's Beach. And if you have property you'll save it and yourselves, as we are doing! SECOND PEDESTRIAN All yesterday the firing at Boulogne Was like the seven thunders heard in Heaven When the fierce angel spoke. So did he draw Full-manned, flat-bottomed for the shallowest shore, Dropped down to west, and crossed our frontage here. Seen from above they specked the water-shine As will a flight of swallows toward dim eve, Descending on a smooth and loitering stream To seek some eyot's sedge. SECOND PHANTOM We are sent to enlighten you and ease your soul. Even now a courier canters to the port To check the baseless scare.