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Poem by Philip James Bailey War So heathen against heathen, tribe 'gainst tribe, Streamed onward in embattled waves of war; Not that so vast, to immemorial age Sacred, of Scythic birth, which flood--like surged Far round the mount Armenian; nor so wide Which once the crutchéd hermit's eyes beheld, Uprist in bodily answer to his prayers, By Danube's bank, whence hardy knighthood's shield;-- Nor host immixed that by Propontic wave Its ranks deployed, by nations, to salute The golden--footed dame, who sheathed in steel Her lilied breast, and couched her lance for love Of Christ; and, with the hope of wresting back From infidels, His hallowed tomb, led on With jewelled rein, and morion snowy plumed, Her maiden chivalry, and glittering queans, Luckless; for ah! their virgin valour quailed, Ere yet the manlier might of stern Islam Bounded upon the spoil; nor, till unhorsed, Unhelmed, knew these the delicate foe they proved, Flower breath'd, as in the moon of blossoms earth;-- Nor that, by gay Chalons, where fell the force Moorish beneath the Frankland monarch's mace, Which Europe saved from turban and Koraun;-- Nor those above whose heads the flaming sword Two handled, and two edged with pest and fire, Of militant angel, pierced the clouds and slew, At one stroke, squadrons. Thus, for many an age, Prevailed the universal lust of death, And vulgar slaughter; war, of all bad things Worst, and man's crowning crime, save when for faith, Or freedom waged, but when for greed of ground, And mere dominion, cursed of man and God. And people against people rose, and wronged Each one the other; robbed of land or life; As when the clans Mogul, which late had left Their maze of mountains the high plains that bound Whence Buzanghir, and all his valorous brood, Heads of the golden horde, and sons of light, Whom Alancova to her sun--spouse bare, At treble birth, the lords of throne and crown, Khaliph's, or king's, or Tzar's, which Zinghis gained, Or filial Kublai, with all suasive sword-- Bright ravisher of souls--into one realm, Rounded, and died; strict Theists they who held In God and their own swords, a brief, brave creed,-- O'er Europe's quaking heart careered, and like Sunblast on greensward, graved their fiery name In blazing towns and harvests blackening; woke, With tramp terrific of their horses' hoofs, The slumbering nations; to its stony foot Burned Breslaw; and at Wollstadt won a field Red with the gore of Christian chivalry, But fled from their own conquest, fled aghast, And perished in the wilds where they were born;-- And when, in later times, and distant lands By sumless crimes indignant made, distraught, The Azteks, for their lord and woe--crowned head, Stern Moctezuma, archer of the heavens-- Beset by bigots, falsely named white gods, Their deeds of black fiends rather savouring, But, steel--clad cowards, strong in fulminant arms, Instalments thought of thunder at command, By the plume mailed barbarians, gold who held The sun's bright tearlets--sought in vain to buy Humanity of Christians, infidel These to earth's purest creed;--or southwards, where His quadripartite world the Ynga ruled, Earth's universal passion wasting not On king--faced coin, but hallowing every mote To beauty, or to deity, till came Crowding, the guests profane, with priest and cross, Who slaughtering thousands of his flock, and him Incarcerating, bade pile his prison walls With the soul--soiling dross they hungered for, Ere he should know release, his sole release Death. The Invader vaunted him of wrongs, And gloried in the havoc of his hand. And victor after victor vexed the world; With scythéd chariots mowed the fields of blood Cities of wealth and states despoiled of peace; Red rapine reaped the land, and famine fed; While maid and mother, eld and childhood ate The heart of grief and drank the tears of woe. Philip James Bailey Philip James Bailey's other poems: Poems of the other poets with the same name: 1503 Views |
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