  W WHILE all was glad, It seemed our birch-tree had, That August hour, intelligence of death; For warningly against the eaves she beat Her body old, lamenting, prophesying, And the hot breath Of startled ferny hollows at her feet Spread out: a toneless sighing. Across an argent sea, Distinct unto the farthest reef and isle, The clouds began to be. Huge forms ’neath sombre draperies, awhile Made slow uncertain rally; But as their wills conjoined, and from the north The leader shook his lance, O then how fair Unvested, they stood forth, In diverse armor, plumed majestically, Each with his own esquires, a King in air! Up moved the dark vanguard, With insolent colors that o’erdusked the skies, And trailed from beach to beach: Massed orange and mould-green; vermilion barred On bronze and mottled silver; saffron dyes, And purples migratory, Fanned each in each, As the long column broke, athirst for glory. Sudden, the thunder! Upon the roofed verandas how it rolled, Twice, thrice: a thud and flame of doom that told New-fallen, nor far away, Some black destruction on the innocent day. And little Everard Deep in the hammock under, eyes alight With healthful fear and wonder The brave do ne’er unlearn, Clenched his soft hand, and breathing hard, Smiled there against his father, like a knight Baptized on Cressy field, or Bannockburn. A moment gone, Into our Thessaly, from Acheron, With imperceptive sorcery, crawled ashore Odors unnamable: an exhalation Of men and ships in oozy graves. (Ah, cease, Derisive nereids! cease: Be it enough, that even ye can pour, From crystal flagons of your ancient peace, So strange obscene libation.) But with the thunder-peal Sprang the pure winds, their thuribles swung wide, To chase that tainted tide; Fresh from the pastures and the cedar-grove, They rode the ridged Atlantic’s copper plain, And rent a league of distance to reveal A sail, aslant, astrain, Impetuous for the cove; And tossing after, panic-stricken, Another, and a third: white spirits, fain to sicken, Nor out of natural harm salvation gain. The selfsame hunter winds that drave The horror down, as faithful-hearted drew The sad clouds from their carnage, and up-piled Their rebel gonfalons, or jocund threw Their cannon in the wave; And subtly, with a parting whisper, gave An eve most mild: A sunset like a prayer, a world all rose and blue. A good world, as it was, And as it shall be: clear circumferent space, Where punctual yet, for worship of their Cause, The stars came thick in choir. Sleep had our Everard in her cool embrace, Else from his cot he hardly need have stooped To see, (and laugh to see!) the headland pine Embossed on changing fire: For close behind it, cooped Within a smallest span, In fury, up and down, and round and round, The routed leopards of the lightning ran: Bright, bright, inside their dungeon-bars, malign They ran; and ran till dawn, without a sound. |
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