The Visions of England: Lyrics on leading men and events in English HistoryPalgrave, Francis Turner
History
The Visions of England: Lyrics on leading men and events in English History
Palgrave, Francis Turner
Great Britain -- History -- Poetry
Without stint pours forth the red wine, thus only can compass his wish;
Upon Erin the death-mark he brands, the Party and Cause to secure;
Not bloodthirsty by birth; just, liquor 'twas needful to pour;
Only the wine of man's blood! . . . But the horrible sacrament thrill'd
Right through the heart of a nation; nor yet is the memory still'd;
E'en yet the dim spectre returns, the ghost of the murderous years,
Blood flushing out in hatred; or blood transmuted to tears!
--Ah strange drama of Fate! what motley pageantries rise
On the stage of this make-shift world! what irony silenced in sighs!
For as when the Switzer looks down on the dell, from the pass and the
snow,
Sees the peace of the fields, the white farms, the clear equable
streamlet below,
And before him the world unknown, the blaze of the shadowless Line,
Riches ill-purchased in exile, the toiling plantation and mine;
And the horn floats up the faint music of youth from his forefathers'
fold,
And he sighs for the patient life, the peace more golden than gold:--
So He now looks back on the years, and groans 'neath the load he must
bear,
Loving this England that loathed him, and none the burden to share!
Gagging not gaining souls: to the close he wonders in vain
Why he cannot win hearts: why 'tis only the will that resigns to his
reign.
As that great image in Dura, the land perforce must obey,
Unloved, unlovely,--and not the feet only of iron and clay,--
Atlas of this wide realm! in himself he summ'd up the whole;
Its children the Cause had devour'd: the sword was childless and sole.
--Ah strange drama of Fate! what motley pageantries rise
On the stage of this make-shift world! what irony silenced in sighs!
In the strait beneath Etna for as the waves ebb, and Scylla betrays
The monster below, foul scales of the serpent and slime,--could we gaze
On Tyranny stript of her tinsel, what vision of dool and dismay!
Terror in confidence clothed, and anarchy biding her day:
Selfishness hero-mask'd; stage-tricks of the shabby-sublime;
Impotent gaspings at good; and the deluge after her time!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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