But ere
nightfall, harper lusty!
When the sun was like a ball
Dropping on the battle dusty,
What was yon discordant call?
Cambria's old metheglin demon
Breathed against our rushing tide;
Clove us midst the threshing seamen:-
Gashed, we saw our ranks divide!
IX
Britain then with valedictory
Shriek veiled off her face and knelt.
Full of
liquor, full of victory,
Chief on chief old
vengeance dealt.
Backward swung their hurly-burly;
None but dead men kept the fight.
They that drink their cup too early,
Darkness they shall see ere night.
X
Loud we heard the yellow rover
Laugh to sleep, while we raged thick,
Thick as ants the ant-hill over,
Asking who has
thrust the stick.
Lo, as frogs that Winter cumbers
Meet the Spring with stiffen'd yawn,
We from our hard night of slumbers
Marched into the
bloody dawn.
XI
Day on day we fought, though shattered:
Pushed and met repulses sharp,
Till our Raven's plumes were scattered:
All, save old Aneurin's harp.
Hear it wailing like a mother
O'er the strings of children slain!
He in one tongue, in another,
Alien, I; one blood, yet twain.
XII
Old Aneurin! droop no longer.
That squat ocean-scum, we own,
Had fine stoutness, made us stronger,
Brought us much-required backbone:
Claimed of Power their dues, and granted
Dues to Power in turn, when rose
Mightier rovers; they that planted
Sovereign here the Norman nose.
XIII
Glorious men, with heads of eagles,
Chopping arms, and
cupboard lips;
Warriors, hunters, keen as beagles,
Mounted aye on horse or ships.
Active, being hungry creatures;
Silent, having
nought to say:
High they raised the lord of features,
Saxon-
worshipped to this day.
XIV
Hear its deeds, the great recital!
Stout as bergs of Arctic ice
Once it led, and lived; a title
Now it is, and names its price.
This our Saxon brothers cherish:
This, when by the worth of wits
Lands are reared aloft, or perish,
Sole illumes their lucre-pits.
XV
Know we not our wrongs, unwritten
Though they be, Aneurin? Sword,
Song, and subtle mind, the Briton
Brings to market, all ignored.
'Gainst the Saxon's bone impinging,
Still is our Gododin played;
Shamed we see him
humbly cringing
In a
shadowy nose's shade.
XVI
Bitter is the weight that crushes
Low, my Bard, thy race of fire.
Here no fair young future blushes
Bridal to a man's desire.
Neither chief, nor aim, nor splendour
Dressing distance, we perceive.
Neither honour, nor the tender
Bloom of promise, morn or eve.
XVII
Joined we are; a tide of races
Rolled to meet a common fate;
England clasps in her embraces
Many: what is England's state?
England her distended middle
Thumps with pride as Mammon's wife;
Says that thus she reads thy riddle,
Heaven! 'tis heaven to plump her life.
XVIII
O my Bard! a yellow
liquor,
Like to that we drank of old -
Gold is her metheglin beaker,
She
destruction drinks in gold.
Warn her, Bard, that Power is pressing
Hotly for his dues this hour;
Tell her that no
drunken blessing
Stops the
onward march of Power.
XIX
Has she ears to take forewarnings
She will
cleanse her of her stains,
Feed and speed for braver mornings
Valorously the growth of brains.
Power, the hard man knit for action,
Reads each nation on the brow.
Cripple, fool, and petrifaction
Fall to him--are falling now!
MEN AND MAN
I
Men the Angels eyed;
And here they were wild waves,
And there as marsh descried;
Men the Angels eyed,
And liked the picture best
Where they were greenly dressed
In
brotherhood of graves.
II
Man the Angels marked:
He led a host through murk,
On
fearful seas embarked;
Man the Angels marked;
To think without a nay,
That he was good as they,
And help him at his work.
III
Man and Angels, ye
A
sluggish fen shall drain,
Shall quell a warring sea.
Man and Angels, ye,
Whom stain of
strife befouls,
A light to
kindle souls
Bear
radiant in the stain.
THE LAST CONTENTION
I
Young captain of a crazy bark!
O tameless heart in battered frame!
Thy sailing orders have a mark,
And hers is not the name.
II
For action all thine iron clanks
In cravings for a splendid prize;
Again to race or bump thy planks
With any flag that flies.
III
Consult them; they are eloquent
For senses not inebriate.
They trust thee on the star intent,
That leads to land their freight.
IV
And they have known thee high peruse
The heavens, and deep the earth, till thou
Didst into the flushed
circle cruise
Where reason quits the brow.
V
Thou animatest ancient tales,
To prove our world of linear seed:
Thy very
virtue now assails,
A tempter to mislead.
VI
But thou hast answer I am I;
My
passion hallows, bids command:
And she is
gracious, she is nigh:
One
motion of the hand!
VII
It will
suffice; a whirly tune
These winds will pipe, and thou perform
The nodded part of pantaloon
In thy created storm.
VIII
Admires thee Nature with much pride;
She clasps thee for a gift of morn,
Till thou art set against the tide,
And then
beware her scorn.
IX
Sad issue, should that
strife befall
Between thy
mortal ship and thee!
It writes the
melancholy scrawl
Of wreckage over sea.
X
This lady of the luting tongue,
The flash in darkness, billow's grace,
For thee the
worship; for the young
In
muscle the embrace.
XI
Soar on thy
manhood clear from those
Whose toothless Winter claws at May,
And take her as the vein of rose
Athwart an evening grey.
PERIANDER
I
How died Melissa none dares shape in words.
A woman who is wife despotic lords
Count faggot at the question, Shall she live!
Her son, because his brows were black of her,
Runs barking for his bread, a fugitive,
And Corinth frowns on them that feed the cur.
II
There is no Corinth save the whip and curb
Of Corinth, high Periander; the superb
In magnanimity, in rule severe.
Up on his
marble fortress-tower he sits,