[]
THE ROYAL VISION: IN AN ODE TO PEACE. BY HENRY JONES, Author of the EARL OF ESSEX, KEW GARDEN, &c.
DUBLIN: Printed for WILLIAM WATSON, Bookſeller, at the Poets Heads in Capel-ſtreet.
M DCC LXIII.
THE ROYAL VISION.
[][1]THE mighty God of armies bows his ear
To wailing mankind's moan,
The Lord of Hoſts from heav'n looks down,
No more with awful eye ſevere;
He hears the bleeding nations groan,
He ſees the vanquiſh'd fall, the victor frown;
He turns aſide his face
By pity touch'd and godlike grace:
He calls BRITANNIA's guardian angel loud,
Go, quell the ſanguine, and aſſuage the proud:
Thy glorious lot on yonder orb below
That globe ſhall rule, my laurel there ſhall grow;
[2]Arreſt the rapid bolt, beat down the mortal ſteel,
For man laid waſte my tender mercies feel.
He ſaid, and pointed to the bleſs'd around
The gaſping ſoldier, and the guſhing wound,
With human nature fainting on the ground.
The bleſs'd themſelves ſeem'd ſad that ſpace,
And begg'd that mankind might have peace.
Go forth, my ſtrength, thy mighty wings outſpread,
Yon crimſon guilty banners tread,
Beneath the foot of peace, he ſaid;
And ſheath, oh! ſheath the murd'rous ſword;
This olive from thy radiant wing
(That near my mercy-ſeat ſtill grows)
In GEORGE's breaſt make joyful ſpring,
And with it waſt my world creating word:
Let famine, peſtilence and ſlaughter ceaſe,
'Tis my command, give weeping EUROPE peace,
And let her angry kings no more be foes.
[3]With loud hoſannas heav'ns eternal concave rung,
And halleluiahs to the God of peace were ſung.
Th' obedient angel cleaves th' ethereal ſkies,
To GEORGE's downy pillow ſtraight he flies,
When balmy ſlumbers cloſed his happy eyes,
And on the organs of his fancy wrought,
The inmoſt fibres of his feeling heart;
With myſtic ſketch divine, angelic trace,
Before his melting mental eye he ſpread
The ſick, the wounded, dying, and the dead:
The burning city ſack'd, the raging battle fought,
In hideous groupes by form creating art;
With all the barb'rous miſchiefs that deface
The works of God, ſince CAIN his brother ſlew,
He placed before his viſionary view:
The infant ſprawling on the ſoldier's ſpear,
Or clinging to the murther'd mother's breaſt,
Whoſe face retains a tenderneſs in death,
[4]What heart of fleſh a ſight like this can bear?
See, for her babe ſhe looks, ev'n now diſtreſs'd!
Her ſwelling ſorrows ſeem to give her breath,
How agonizing fear her features fix
Leſt with her flowing blood her milk ſhould mix!
The venerable ſire, ſee, by the hoary hairs,
Athwart the pavement dragg'd, that floats in blood,
The dagger through the matrons boſom thruſt,
Who, 'twixt the murd'rer and her huſband, ſtood;
The ſcreaming daughter mad her treſſes tears,
When raviſh'd at her gaſping mother's feet,
Whilſt fury, blood, and luſt
Polute each guilty ſtreet:
As if ſome fiend had ſnatch'd the love of kind,
And hell itſelf was lodg'd within the human mind:
There mines, and caves of death, their entrails burſt
At one infernal blaſt, one horrid blow accurſt:
[5]See limbs and heads of men, and bodies fly
Like whirling feathers, ſcatter'd thro' the frighted ſky!
There wrapt in ſmoke, in ſulphur, ſtench, and fire,
Whole armies in th' aſtoniſh'd air expire!
But thoſe, alas! are ſcenes of ſingle woe,
Behold vaſt empires fall, at one deſtructive blow—
The king lamented inly as he ſlept,
With tender throbs, for murder'd mankind wept;
When ſtraight before his eye the angel plac'd
Thoſe human fiends that lay all nature waſte:
Ambition in the guilty front was there,
Who tortures heav'n and earth, and ſea and air;
And tyranny with ſmiling frown,
Whoſe iron rod ſeems deck'd in down;
Diſcord in human gore deep dy'd,
With fire and water at her ſide;
Her hoſtile viſage with itſelf at war,
Inverted eyes that glare, and horrid brows that jar:
[6]And bigotry in meek diſguiſe,
With dagger'd hand, and upcaſt eyes;
And envy, daughter of deſpair,
With palid lip, and ghaſtly air,
Who copies from tormented fiends her face,
The peſt of hell, and bane of human race:
And pride, that parent of th' infernal crew,
With haughty eye aſkance, and ſanguine hue:
All theſe were martial'd in their dread array,
And horrid attributes before his eye,
The monarch ſtartled, as in ſleep he lay;
And from his inmoſt ſoul upheav'd a ſigh.
The angel now with pow'r ſerene,
All gracious chang'd the horrid ſcene;
A milder viſion gently drew,
The kings of EUROPE in his view,
With lifted hands and bended knees
Imploring peace, he pitying ſees;
[7]The chriſtian virtues all around
Were kneeling near him on the ground:
Religion mounted mild, up to her ſacred place,
Sublime ſhe roſe, awful, with heav'nly grace,
(That white-rob'd queen of ſweet command,)
Still near his beſt-lov'd throne, and heart would ſtand:
The croſs erect in one ſeraphic hand,
She held before the royal eye,
His love immenſe, that would for mankind die:
A precious crown, by pureſt virtue won,
Richer than rubies, brighter than the ſun;
Where twice ten thouſand various gems unite
Their trembling rays, in one celeſtial light
Her other hand divine holds up to view:
The horrid vices dazzled at the glorious ſight
Sunk down at once to hell's eternal night;
Whilſt ravag'd realms, and ſea, and air, look new.
[8]Bid mankind ſmile whom heav'n ordains
To bind EUROPA's bleeding veins,
Religion ſaid; bid diſcord ceaſe,
And open wide the gates of peace:
Call back that precious dove, my ſon proceed,
Compleat the god like work, behold thy glorious meed!
With ſeraphs thron'd thy diadem ſhall ſhine,
This crown to all eternity is thine:
Let chriſtian kings in chriſtian leagues agree,
And give the human heart to God and me.—
The king bid EUROPE's proſtrate monarchs riſe,
Whilſt tears of pity from his flowing eyes,
Ran trickling down his crimſon cheek,
Religion made him mild and meek,
And half his ſoul conſented;
He bad the weeping world rejoyce,
With intellectual voice,
And ev'ry manly faculty relented:
[9]CAESAR himſelf might now give o'er;
Conqueſt has her fill;
A chriſtian monarch ſhould do more,
Forbear the chriſtian blood to ſpill:
Let glory hide her guilty rays,
Be mercy now my higheſt praiſe,
Let me my foes forgive;
Ariſe, ye vanquiſh'd monarchs, riſe — and live.—
The ſocial angel, when by pity preſs'd,
That moment lodg'd the heav'nly olive in his breaſt,
And fill'd his heart with clemency and grace,
The king awoke, he will'd; and all was peace.—
HENRY JONES.
- Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3418 The royal vision in an ode to peace By Henry Jones. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5B92-9