Classic and Contemporary Poetry
CROMWELL'S SOLILOQUY OVER THE DEAD BODY OF CHARLES, by EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER-LYTTON Poet's Biography First Line: Charles sleeps, and feels no more the grinding cares Last Line: My spirit, like a bark, sweeps on to fortune! Alternate Author Name(s): Bulwer, Edward; Lytton Of Knebworth, 1st Baron; Lytton, Edward George Earle Bulwer, Lord Subject(s): Charles I, King Of England (1600-1649); Cromwell, Oliver (1599-1658) | ||||||||
CHARLES sleeps, and feels no more the grinding cares, The perils and the doubts, that wait on POWER. For him no more the uneasy day, -- the night At war with sleep! for him are hush'd at last Loud Hate and hollow Love. Reverse thy law, O blind Compassion of the human heart! And let not Death, which feels not, sins not, weeps not, Rob Life of all that Suffering asks from Pity. -- Lo! what a slender barrier parts in twain The presence of the breathing and the dead, The vanquisher and victim; the firm foot Of lusty strength, and the unmoving mass Of that all strength must come to. Yet once more, Ere the grave closes on that solemn dust, Will I survey what men have fear'd to look on. 'Tis a firm frame; the sinews strongly knit, The chest deep-set and broad; save some gray hairs Saddening those locks of love, no sign of age! Had nature been his executioner, He would have outlived me! And to this end -- This narrow empire -- this unpeopled kingdom -- This six feet realm -- the over lust of sway Hath been the guide! He would have stretch'd his will O'er that unlimited world which men's souls are! Fetter'd the earth's pure air -- for Freedom is That air to honest lips; -- and here he lies, In dust most eloquent -- to after-time A never silent oracle for Kings! -- Was this the hand that strain'd within its grasp So haught a sceptre? -- this the shape that wore Majesty like a garment? Spurn that clay, It can resent not: speak of royal crimes, And it can frown not: schemeless lies the brain Whose thoughts were sources of such fearful deeds. What things are we, O Lord, when at thy will A worm like this could shake the mighty world! A few years since, and in the port was moor'd A bark to far Columbia's forests bound; And I was one of those indignant hearts Panting for exile in the thirst of freedom; Then, that pale clay (poor clay that was a King!) Forbade my parting, in the wanton pride Of vain command, and with a fated sceptre Waved back the shadow of the death to come. Here stands that baffled and forbidden wanderer, Loftiest amid the wrecks of ruin'd empire, Beside the coffin of a headless King! He thrall'd my fate -- I have prepared his doom: He made me captive -- lo! his narrow cell! So hands unseen do fashion forth the earth Of our frail schemes into our funeral urns; So walking, dream-led in life's sleep, our steps Move blindfold to the scaffold, or the throne! -- Ay, to the THRONE! From that dark thought I strike The light which cheers me onward to my goal. Wild though the night, and angry though the winds, High o'er the billows of the battling sea My spirit, like a bark, sweeps on to fortune! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CROMWELL by JOHN STUART BLACKIE AN HORATIAN ODE UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND by ANDREW MARVELL SONNET: 16. TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL, MAY 1652 by JOHN MILTON THE THREE TROOPERS DURING THE PROTECTORATE by GEORGE WALTER THORNBURY CROMWELL'S REFLECTIONS ON 'KILLING NO MURDER' by EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER-LYTTON CARLE, AN' THE KING COME by ROBERT BURNS HUDIBRAS: PART 1 by SAMUEL BUTLER (1612-1680) HUDIBRAS: PART 2 by SAMUEL BUTLER (1612-1680) SONG, FR. ERNEST MALTRAVERS by EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER-LYTTON A SPENDTHRIFT by EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER-LYTTON ABSENT YET PRESENT by EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER-LYTTON |
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