Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE COMBAT OF LIFE, by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES 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...PRIVILEGE OF BEING by ROBERT HASS SEAWATER STIFFENS CLOTH by JANE HIRSHFIELD SAYING YES TO LIVING by DAVID IGNATOW THE WORLD IS SO DIFFICULT TO GIVE UP by DAVID IGNATOW COLUMBUS AND THE MAYFLOWER by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES |
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