Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ON THE RUSSIAN WAR IN THE CRIMEA: 1854-55, by JANET HAMILTON Poet's Biography First Line: Behold with awe, and high adoring wonder Last Line: Britannia wars to loose, not bind the chain. Alternate Author Name(s): Hamilton, Janet Thompson Subject(s): Crimean War (1853-1856); Europe; Russia; War; Soviet Union; Russians | ||||||||
"There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough hew them as we will."SHAKESPEARE. BEHOLD with awe, and high adoring wonder, The levin car of Heaven, on wheels of thunder, Flame and reverberate through the Eastern skies, Weak-sighted mortals, veil your dazzled eyes! Seek not to scanattempt not to foreshow, By fancies vain, Heaven's vast designs below. The living wheels, instinct with spirit eyes, Roll onwards to their goal, let this suffice The curious mind and still the anxious soul. We see a part, but not the mighty whole. The mad ambition and the wrath of man, Controlled, subjected to the sovereign plan Of an omniscient Providence, shall work Its ends by grasping Russ and feeble Turk, By siege and storm, by battle height and plain, By lakes of blood and festering hills of slain, By allied nations rousing Europe broad These are His tools, the mighty workerGod. And thou, my country, what hast thou attained? Some dear-bought triumphs. Ah! how soiled and stained, By needless waste of life on hostile soil, Where want and sickness, nakedness and toil, Mowed down whole legions of thy warrior braves, Their promised gloriesnameless Crimean graves! Yet still with jealous love I'd guard thy name, And from the sunbright glories of thy fame Chase every shade, and wipe off every stain, The prestige of thy worth and power maintain. For not alone in battle's fateful hour Are seen and felt the triumphs of thy power; On higher, holier fields immortal Fame Hath crowned thy efforts, and embalmed thy name. Thy missioned hosts, full oft in bloodless fight The powers of darkness, with the arms of light, Have vanquished and dispersed. Triumphant songs, In every language, from ten thousand tongues, Rise from the North, the South, the mighty West, The fulgent Eastthey rise and call thee blest. The herald thou o'er all the world abroad, To sound the advent of the Word of God. For this no banner flings its blazon round, No battle-charger, foaming, paws the ground, No shout, nor shock of war, no groans, nor cries, No garments rolled in blood speak to the skies, No courtly laureate strikes the jewelled lyre, And thrills the golden chords with tuneful fire. Yet Heaven proclaims, and earth repeats the strain, Britannia wars to loose, not bind the chain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OXOTA: A SHORT RUSSIAN NOVEL: CHAPTER 259 by LYN HEJINIAN A FOREIGN COUNTRY by JOSEPHINE MILES THE DIAMOND PERSONA by NORMAN DUBIE IN MEMORIAM: 1933 (7. RUSSIA: ANNO 1905) by CHARLES REZNIKOFF TAKE A LETTER TO DMITRI SHOSTAKOVITCH by CARL SANDBURG READING THE RUSSIANS by RUTH STONE THE SOVIET CIRCUS VISITS HAVANA, 1969 by VIRGIL SUAREZ A PROBLEM IN AESTHETICS by KAREN SWENSON A BALLAD FOUNDED ON A REAL INCIDENT WHICH OCCURED IN HIGH LIFE by JANET HAMILTON |
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