Xi

Bright from the shell of that much limited man, Her hero, like the falchion out of sheath, Like soul that quits the tumbled body, soared: And France, impulsive, nuptial with his plan, Albeit the Critic fretting her, adored Once more. Exultingly her heart went forth, Submissive to his mind and mood, The way of those pent-eyebrows North; For now was he to win the wreath Surpassing sunniest in camp or Court; Next, as the blessed harvest after years of blight, Sit, the Great Emperor, to be known the Good!

Now had the Seaman’s volvent sprite, Lean from the chase that barked his contraband, A beggared applicant at every port, To strew the profitless deeps and rot beneath, Slung northward, for a hunted beast’s retort On sovereign power; there his final stand, Among the perjured Scythian’s shaggy horde, The hydrocephalic aërolite Had taken; flashing thence repellent teeth, Though Europe’s Master Europe’s Rebel banned To be earth’s outcast, ocean’s lord and sport.

Unmoved might seem the Master’s taunted sword. Northward his dusky legions nightly slipped, As on the map of that all-provident head; He luting Peace the while, like morning’s cock The quiet day to round the hours for bed; No pastoral shepherd sweeter to his flock. Then Europe first beheld her Titan stripped. To what vast length of limb and mounds of thews, How trained to scale the eminences, pluck The hazards for new footing, how compel Those timely incidents by men named luck, Through forethought that defied the Fates to choose, Her grovelling admiration had not yet Imagined of the great man-miracle; And France recounted with her comic smile Duplicities of Court and Cabinet, The silky female of his male in guile, Wherewith her two-faced Master could amuse A dupe he charmed in sunny beams to bask, Before his feint for camisado struck The lightning moment of the cast-off mask.

Splendours of earth repeating heaven’s at set Of sun down mountain cloud in masses arched; Since Asia upon Europe marched, Unmatched the copious multitudes; unknown To Gallia’s over-runner, Rome’s inveterate foe, Such hosts; all one machine for overthrow, Coruscant from the Master’s hand, compact As reasoned thoughts in the Master’s head; were shown Yon lightning moment when his acme might Blazed o’er the stream that cuts the sandy tract Borussian from Sarmatia’s famished flat; The century’s flower; and off its pinnacled throne, Rayed servitude on Europe’s ball of sight.