A recreant Harp, that sings of fear 'And heaviness in Clifford's ear! I said, when evil Men are strong, No life is good, no pleasure long, A weak and cowardly untruth! Our Clifford was a happy Youth, And thankful through a weary time, That brought him up to manhood's prime. Again he wanders forth at will, And tends a Flock from hill to hill: That learned of him submissive ways; To his side the Fallow-deer Came, and rested without fear; The pair were Servants of his eye They moved about in open sight, He knew the Rocks which Angels haunt He hath kenned them taking wing: He hath entered; and been told He can whisper words of might. Now another day is come, Fitter hope, and nobler doom: He hath thrown aside his Crook, And hath buried deep his Book; Armour rusting in his Halls On the blood of Clifford calls ; "Quell the Scot," exclaims the Lance Bear me to the heart of France, Is the longing of the Shield Tell thy name, thou trembling Field; Field of death, where'er thou be, Groan thou with our victory! Happy day, and mighty hour, When our Shepherd, in his power, Mailed and horsed, with lance and sword, To his Ancestors restored, Like a re-appearing Star, Like a glory from afar, First shall head the Flock of War!" Alas! the fervent Harper did not know Love had he found in huts where poor Men lie, His daily Teachers had been Woods and Rills, The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills. In him the savage Virtue of the Race, Glad were the Vales, and every cottage hearth; The Shepherd Lord was honoured more and more: And, ages after he was laid in earth, "The Good Lord Clifford" was the name he bore. XXXIV. YES! full surely 'twas the Echo, Solitary, clear, profound, Answering to Thee, shouting Cuckoo ! Giving to thee Sound for Sound. Hears not also mortal Life? Hear not we, unthinking Creatures! Slaves of Folly, Love, or Strife, Voices of two different Natures? Have not We too? Yes we have Answers, and we know not whence; Echoes from beyond the grave, Recognized intelligence? |