Ruler of speech, and through speech, of thought;
And hence to his brain was a madness brought.
He maddened in East, he maddened in West,
Fiercer for sights of men's unrest,
Fiercer for talk, amongst awful men,
Of their new mighty leader, Captain Pen,
A conqueror strange, who sat in his home
Like the wizard that plagued the ships of Rome,
Noiseless, showless, dealing no death,
But victories, winged, went forth from his breath.
Three thousand miles across the waves1
Did Captain Sword cry, bidding souls be slaves:
Three thousand miles did the echo return
With a laugh and a blow made his old cheeks burn.
Then he called to a wrong-maddened people, and swore2
Their name in the map should never be more:
Dire came the laugh, and smote worse than before.
Were earthquake a giant, up-thrusting his head
And o'erlooking the nations, not worse were the dread.
Then, lo! was a wonder, and sadness to see;
For with that very people, their leader, stood he,
Incarnate afresh, like a Cæsar of old; 3
But because he looked back, and his heart was cold,
Time, hope, and himself for a tale he sold.
Oh largest occasion, by man ever lost!
Oh throne of the world to the war-dogs tost!
He vanished; and thinly there stood in his place
The new shape of Sword, with an humbler face,
Rebuking his brother, and preaching for right,
Yet ay when it came, standing proud on his might,
And squaring its claims with his old small sight;
Then struck up his drums, with ensign furled,
And said, 'I will walk through a subject world:
Earth, just as it is, shall for ever endure,
The rich be too rich, and the poor too poor;
And for this I'll stop knowledge. I'll say to it,
Thus far but presume no farther to flow:
For me, as I list, shall the free airs blow."
Laughed after him loudly that land so fair,5
'The king thou sett'st over us, by a free air
Is swept away, senseless.' And old Sword then
First knew the might of great Captain Pen.
So strangely it bowed him, so wildered his brain,
That now he stood, hatless, renouncing his reign;
The American War [H. 1849-60]. 386 to end of v. om. 1844.
The French War [H. 1849-60].
3 Napoleon [H. 1849-60].
The Duke of Wellington, or existing Military Toryism [H. 1849-60].
The Glorious Three Days [H. 1849, 1860].
Now muttered of dust laid in blood; and now
'Twixt wonder and patience went lifting his brow.
Then suddenly came he with gowned men,
And said, 'Now observe me-I'm Captain Pen :
I'll lead all your changes-I'll write all your books-
I'm everything-all things-I'm clergymen, cooks,
Clerks, carpenters, hosiers,-I'm Pitt-I'm Lord Grey.'
'Twas painful to see his extravagant way;
But heart ne'er so bold, and hand ne'er so strong,
What are they, when truth and the wits go wrong ?
OF CAPTAIN PEN, AND HOW HE FOUGHT WITH
Now tidings of Captain Sword and his state
Were brought to the ears of Pen the Great,
Who rose and said, 'His time is come'.
And he sent him, but not by sound of drum,
Nor trumpet, nor other hasty breath,
Hot with questions of life and death,
But only a letter calm and mild;
And Captain Sword he read it, and smiled,
And said, half in scorn, and nothing in fear,
(Though his wits seemed restored by a danger near,
For brave was he ever), Let Captain Pen,
Bring at his back a million men,
And I'll talk with his wisdom, and not till then.'
'I'll bring at my back a world of men.'
Then replied to his messenger Captain Pen,
Out laughed the captains of Captain Sword,
But their chief looked vexed, and said not a word,
For thought and trouble had touched his ears
Beyond the bullet-sense of theirs,
And wherever he went, he was 'ware of a sound
Now heard in the distance, now gathering round,
Which irked him to know what the issue might be ;
But the soul of the cause of it well guessed he.
Indestructible souls among men
Were the souls of the line of Captain Pen ;
Sages, patriots, martyrs mild,
Going to the stake, as child
Goeth with his prayer to bed;
Dungeon-beams, from quenchless head;
Poets, making earth aware
Of its wealth in good and fair;
And the benders to their intent,
Of metal and of element;
Of flame the enlightener, beauteous,
And steam, that bursteth his iron house;
And adamantine giants blind,
That, without master, have no mind.
Heir to these, and all their store,
Was Pen, the power unknown of yore;
And as their might still created might,
And each worked for him by day and by night,
In wealth and wondrous means he grew,
And out of the witchcraft of their skill,
(Sword little knew what was leaving him then)
A creature he called to wait on his will-
Half iron, half vapour, a dread to behold—
Which evermore panted and evermore rolled,
And uttered his words a million fold.
Forth sprang they in air, down raining like dew,
And men fed upon them, and mighty they grew.
Ears giddy with custom that sound might not hear,
But it woke up the rest, like an earthquake near;
And that same night of the letter, some strange
Compulsion of soul brought a sense of change;
And at midnight the sound grew into a roll
As the sound of all gatherings from pole to pole,
From pole unto pole, and from clime to clime,
Like the roll of the wheels of the coming of time;-
A sound as of cities, and sound as of swords
Sharpening, and solemn and terrible words,
And laughter as solemn, and thunderous drumming,
A tread as if all the world were coming.
And then was a lull, and soft voices sweet
Called into music those terrible feet,
Which rising on wings, lo! the earth went round
To the burn of their speed with a golden sound;
With a golden sound, and a swift repose,
Such as the blood in the young heart knows;
Such as Love knows, when his tumults cease;
When all is quick, and yet all is at peace.
And when Captain Sword got up next morn,
Lo! a new-faced world was born;
For not an anger nor pride would it show,
Nor aught of the loftiness now found low,
Nor would his own men strike a single blow:
Not a blow for their old, unconsidering lord
Would strike the good soldiers of Captain Sword;
But weaponless all, and wise they stood,
In the level dawn, and calm brotherly good;
Yet bowed to him they, and kissed his hands,
For such were their new lord's commands,
Lessons rather, and brotherly plea;
Reverence the past, quoth he;
Reverence the struggle and mystery,
And faces human in their pain;
Nor his the least that could sustain
Cares of mighty wars, and guide
Calmly where the red deaths ride.
'But how! what now?' cried Captain Sword;
'Not a blow for your general? not even a word?
What! traitors? deserters ? '
But the game's' at an end; the wise' won't play.'
And where's your old spirit?'
'The same, though another;
Man may be strong without maiming his brother.'
'But enemies?'
'Enemies! Whence should they come,
When all interchange what was but known to some ?
'But famine? but plague? worse evils by far.'
O last mighty rhet'ric to charm us to war!
Look round--what has earth, now it equably speeds,
To do with these foul and calamitous needs?
Now it equably speeds, and thoughtfully glows,
And its heart is open, never to close?'
'Still I can govern,' said Captain Sword;
'Fate I respect; and I stick to my word.'
And in truth so he did; but the word was one
He had sworn to all vanities under the sun,
To do, for their conq'rors, the least could be done.
Besides, what had he with his worn-out story,
To do with the cause he had wronged, and the glory?
519 good before lord's 1849-60.
521 still before the 1844.
544 vanities] tyrannies 1844.
after past 1849-60 have O brothers
545 their conq'rors] the people 1844.
No! Captain Sword a sword was still,
He could not unteach his lordly will;
He could not attemper his single thought;
It might not be bent, nor newly wrought:
And so, like the tool of a disused art,
He stood at his wall, and rusted apart.
'Twas only for many-souled Captain Pen
To make a world of swordless men.
[Written in (perhaps for) Mrs. S. C. Hall's album. First printed in S. C. Hall's Book of Gems, vol. iii, 1838. Reprinted 1840 (D. L. Richardson's Selections from the British Poets, Calcutta), 1844-60.]
ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold :
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
'What writest thou?'-The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, The names of those who love the Lord.'
'And is mine one?' said Abou. Nay, not so,'
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, 'I pray thee then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.'
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.
[First published in The New Monthly Magazine, February 1850; reprinted 1855-60.]
INSCRIBED TO THE MEMORY OF SHELLEY
SHELLEY, take this to thy dear memory ;-
To praise the generous, is to think of thee.
Jaffàr, the Barmecide, the good Vizier,
The poor man's hope, the friend without a peer,
Jaffar was dead, slain by a doom unjust;
And guilty Hàroun, sullen with mistrust
Title. Abou ben Adhem and the Angel 1844. For the extract from D'Herbelot given in 1844 see notes at end of book.
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