Country Town, The: A Reverie - Part 2
7
As flows the life-blood from the Heart's deep wells
With still renewing still destroying tide,
And every moment wastes and builds the cells
Wherein its ceaseless circling currents glide:
So runs the dream-like tale of human pride.
The Nations come; they lay foundations vast,
Creed, Custom, Law; awhile their works abide;
Then vanish; or new Times old Forms re-cast,
Taught by their master Change, God's chief Iconoclast.
8
Perhaps yon swelling BARROW buries deep
Some chief, once ranger of Andreda's waste:
He sits, his forehead bent, as though in sleep,
His bow and flinty barb beside him placed,
And meal, by pious hands prepared in haste,
That the lone spirit, from the mortal clay
Released, might find the well-known cup, and taste
The charitable food, then speed his way,
Through more enchanting scenes to urge a swifter prey.
9
Vain Creed! Let Science rob the roofless tomb,
To vaunt the growing glories of our kind;
And from the relics of his art assume
His soul debased, his half inhuman mind!
Yet was he Man ! His simpler heart enshrined
An image of the Unseen. Erect he trod;
Since in the waves, the stars, the sun, the wind,
He saw the Maker's hand; and on the sod
He reared the turfy pile, and bent the knee to God.
10
From mystic Eld his dim religion came:
Untouched to keep the Father's sacred powers;
To save the Household Gods from household shame;
And seal with holy awe the Marriage bowers.
Seems then his Instinct less refined than ours?
Or what avails our Reason's high discourse,
Whose hearth each day the adulterous wife deflowers,
Unpitied leaves her babe, nor feigns remorse,
While Law the wanton speeds, and grants the glad Divorce?
11
Nor foreign seemed to his untutored breast
The thoughts that Fatherland could once inspire;
Or images, by later bards expressed,
Of social hope, and hate, and joint desire.
Doubt not that in his heart the patriot fire
Full often glowed! Perhaps Cassivelan
Called him to arms; perhaps the priestly choir
Inflamed his spirit, when, from clan to clan,
To heal Bonduca's woes, the word of vengeance ran!
12
Yes, he was Man! And we, who o'er him boast
Our arts, our eloquence, what are we more?
Whose eloquence hath too, too dearly cost
Our country, all distraught with Faction's roar;
Who, while our arts adventurous explore
The shrine of Nature, in self-love too fond,
Now, raised to heaven, in boundless rapture soar,
Now, earthward dashed, with coward hearts despond,
And, blind with present cares, have lost the Hope beyond!
As flows the life-blood from the Heart's deep wells
With still renewing still destroying tide,
And every moment wastes and builds the cells
Wherein its ceaseless circling currents glide:
So runs the dream-like tale of human pride.
The Nations come; they lay foundations vast,
Creed, Custom, Law; awhile their works abide;
Then vanish; or new Times old Forms re-cast,
Taught by their master Change, God's chief Iconoclast.
8
Perhaps yon swelling BARROW buries deep
Some chief, once ranger of Andreda's waste:
He sits, his forehead bent, as though in sleep,
His bow and flinty barb beside him placed,
And meal, by pious hands prepared in haste,
That the lone spirit, from the mortal clay
Released, might find the well-known cup, and taste
The charitable food, then speed his way,
Through more enchanting scenes to urge a swifter prey.
9
Vain Creed! Let Science rob the roofless tomb,
To vaunt the growing glories of our kind;
And from the relics of his art assume
His soul debased, his half inhuman mind!
Yet was he Man ! His simpler heart enshrined
An image of the Unseen. Erect he trod;
Since in the waves, the stars, the sun, the wind,
He saw the Maker's hand; and on the sod
He reared the turfy pile, and bent the knee to God.
10
From mystic Eld his dim religion came:
Untouched to keep the Father's sacred powers;
To save the Household Gods from household shame;
And seal with holy awe the Marriage bowers.
Seems then his Instinct less refined than ours?
Or what avails our Reason's high discourse,
Whose hearth each day the adulterous wife deflowers,
Unpitied leaves her babe, nor feigns remorse,
While Law the wanton speeds, and grants the glad Divorce?
11
Nor foreign seemed to his untutored breast
The thoughts that Fatherland could once inspire;
Or images, by later bards expressed,
Of social hope, and hate, and joint desire.
Doubt not that in his heart the patriot fire
Full often glowed! Perhaps Cassivelan
Called him to arms; perhaps the priestly choir
Inflamed his spirit, when, from clan to clan,
To heal Bonduca's woes, the word of vengeance ran!
12
Yes, he was Man! And we, who o'er him boast
Our arts, our eloquence, what are we more?
Whose eloquence hath too, too dearly cost
Our country, all distraught with Faction's roar;
Who, while our arts adventurous explore
The shrine of Nature, in self-love too fond,
Now, raised to heaven, in boundless rapture soar,
Now, earthward dashed, with coward hearts despond,
And, blind with present cares, have lost the Hope beyond!
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