Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE COMBAT OF LIFE, by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE COMBAT OF LIFE, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: We have come out upon the field of life
Last Line: And love and peace be all the universe?
Alternate Author Name(s): Houghton, 1st Baron; Houghton, Lord
Subject(s): Life


WE have come out upon the field of Life,
To war with Evil; by some mightier power
Than Memory can embrace, or Reason know,
We were enlisted into this great strife,
And led to meet that unknown Enemy:
Yet not like men brought blinded to a wood,
Who, looking round them, where a hundred paths
All undistinguished lead a hundred ways,
Tormented by that blank indifference,
Rather sit down and die than wander on, --
Not thus, but with a tablet clear and sure,
(Obscure in this alone, that it is graven
On mortal hearts by an eternal hand,)
An ever-present Law, within our Being,
Which we must read whether we will or no,
We are placed here and told the way to go.
The Boy, who feels his foot upon the plain,
And his young fingers clinging to the sword,
For the first time -- how loudly he proclaims
The faith of his ingenuous chivalry!
"What is to me that proudly-fronting force?
Am I not brave and strong? Am I not here
To fight and conquer? Have I not around
A world of comrades, bound to the same cause,
All brave as I -- all led by the same chief,
All pledged to Victory? Who dares to fear?
Who dares to doubt? Is not the very pulse,
That drives my spirit onward, as a Voice
Hailing my glory? -- Yes, the Power of Ill
Shall quail before the virtue of my arm,
And hostile darts fall pointless from my shield."

Poor youthful Heart! poor noble Self-deceit!
Weak-winged Aspirant! -- Step with me aside,
'Tis for a moment, mount this little hill, --
Tell me and tell thyself what see'st Thou now.
Look East and West, and mark how far extends
This vainly mocked, this haughtily defied,
This Might so easily to be laid low!
There is no eminence on this wide space,
So high that thou from it canst e'er behold
A clear horizon: dark is all the space,
Black with the masses of that Enemy;
There is no point where Light can penetrate
Those densely-banded Legions, -- the green plain
Shines through no interval. Brave though thou art,
My Boy, where is thy trust in Victory now!
Then gaze below, gaze on that waving crowd,
The marshalled army of Humanity,
From which thou art come out. -- Loyal thou art,
My Boy! but what avails thy feeble Truth,
When, as thou see'st, of that huge multitude,
Those still succeeding myriads there arrayed
For fight, how few, how miserably few,
Not only do not fervently work out
Their Soldier-duty, but whose craven souls
Do not pass over to the very Foe,
And, mingling with his numbers numberless,
Against their brethren turn unnatural arms, --
Or else of honest wills, at first, like thine,
After the faint resistance of an hour,
Yield themselves up half-willing prisoners,
Soon to be won by golden-guileful tongues,
To do blithe service in the cause of Sin?
Surely amid this general faithlessness,
This common treason, where Desertion takes
So sure a method, so distinct a form,
That it may rather seem itself a Law
Than the infraction, where the wonder is
That those are loyal, not that these rebel, --
Surely if we, who have our hearts awake
To this most dreadful Truth, we who have learnt
That Evil is a force, which when we meet
In open battle, we are as a rush
Before the whirlwind, cautiously retire
To some deep-hidden cleft where'er we deem
We are best sheltered from his poisoned touch
And there in calm but tearful hopelessness,
Mourning the cureless Agony of our world,
Crouch in the dust and wait until the end,
It were a bitter judgment and untrue,
To brand us cowards, and our deeds a crime.

But though the weakness of our human heart
May thus be made more safe and innocent,
Yet there are some to whom a strength is given.
A Will, a self-constraining Energy,
A Faith which feeds upon no earthly hope,
Which never thinks of Victory, but content
In its own consummation, combating
Because it ought to combat (even as Love
Is its own cause and cannot have another),
And conscious that to find in martyrdom
The stamp and signet of most perfect life
Is all the science that mankind can reach,
Rejoicing fights, and still rejoicing falls.
It may be that to Spirits high-toned as these
A revelation of the end of Time
Is also granted; that they feel a sense
Giving them firm assurance that the foe
By which they must be crushed (in Death well-won
Alone to find their freedom) in his turn
Will be subdued, though not by such as They.
Evil, which is the King of Time, in Time
Cannot be overcome, but who has said
That Time shall be for ever? Who can lay
The limits of Creation? Who can know
That Realm and Monarch shall not sink together
Into the deep of blest Eternity,
And Love and Peace be all the Universe?





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net