When Eloïsa's form was lowered beneath
Their nuptial vault, his arms outstretched, and pressed The kindling ashes to his kindled breast.1
The waves without sang round their couch, their roar As much unheeded as if life were o'er; Within, their hearts made all their harmony, Love's broken murmur and more broken sigh.
And they, the cause and sharers of the shock Which left them exiles of the hollow rock, Where were they? O'er the sea for life they plied, To seek from Heaven the shelter men denied. Another course had been their choice-but where? The wave which bore them still their foes would bear, Who, disappointed of their former chase, In search of Christian now renewed their race. Eager with anger, their strong arms made way, Like vultures baffled of their previous prey. They gained upon them, all whose safety lay In some bleak crag or deeply-hidden bay : No further chance or choice remained; and right For the first further rock which met their sight They steered, to take their latest view of land, And yield as victims, or die sword in hand; Dismissed the natives and their shallop, who Would still have battled for that scanty crew; But Christian bade them seek their shore again, Nor add a sacrifice which were in vain ; For what were simple bow and savage spear Against the arms which must be wielded here?
1. The tradition is attached to the story of Eloïsa, that when her body was lowered into the grave of Abelard (who had been buried twenty years), he opened his arms to receive her.
[The story is told by Bayle, who quotes from a manuscript chronicle of Tours, preserved in the notes of Andreas Quercetanus, affixed to the Historia Calamitatum Abælardi: "Eadem defuncta ad tumulum apertum deportata, maritus ejus qui multis diebus ante eam defunctus fuerat, elevatis brachiis eam recepit, et ita eam amplexatus brachia sua strinxit."-See Petri Abelardi Opera, Paris, 1616, ii. 1195.]
They landed on a wild but narrow scene, Where few but Nature's footsteps yet had been; Prepared their arms, and with that gloomy eye, Stern and sustained, of man's extremity, When Hope is gone, nor Glory's self remains To cheer resistance against death or chains,— They stood, the three, as the three hundred stood Who dyed Thermopyla with holy blood. But, ah! how different! 'tis the cause makes all, Degrades or hallows courage in its fall.
O'er them no fame, eternal and intense,
Blazed through the clouds of Death and beckoned hence; No grateful country, smiling through her tears,
Begun the praises of a thousand years;
No nation's eyes would on their tomb be bent, No heroes envy them their monument; However boldly their warm blood was spilt, Their Life was shame, their Epitaph was guilt. And this they knew and felt, at least the one, The leader of the band he had undone; Who, born perchance for better things, had set His life upon a cast which lingered yet : But now the die was to be thrown, and all The chances were in favour of his fall:
And such a fall! But still he faced the shock, Obdurate as a portion of the rock
Whereon he stood, and fixed his levelled gun, Dark as a sullen cloud before the sun.
The boat drew nigh, well armed, and firm the crew To act whatever Duty bade them do;
Careless of danger, as the onward wind Is of the leaves it strews, nor looks behind. And, yet, perhaps, they rather wished to go. Against a nation's than a native foe, And felt that this poor victim of self-will, Briton no more, had once been Britain's still.
They hailed him to surrender-no reply ;
Their arms were poised, and glittered in the sky. 290 They hailed again-no answer; yet once more They offered quarter louder than before. The echoes only, from the rock's rebound, Took their last farewell of the dying sound.
Then flashed the flint, and blazed the volleying flame, And the smoke rose between them and their aim, While the rock rattled with the bullets' knell, Which pealed in vain, and flattened as they fell; Then flew the only answer to be given
By those who had lost all hope in earth or heaven. After the first fierce peal as they pulled nigher,
They heard the voice of Christian shout, "Now, fire!" And ere the word upon the echo died,
Two fell; the rest assailed the rock's rough side, And, furious at the madness of their foes, Disdained all further efforts, save to close. But steep the crag, and all without a path,
Each step opposed a bastion to their wrath, While, placed 'midst clefts the least accessible,
Which Christian's eye was trained to mark full well, 310 The three maintained a strife which must not yield, In spots where eagles might have chosen to build. Their every shot told; while the assailant fell, Dashed on the shingles like the limpet shell; But still enough survived, and mounted still, Scattering their numbers here and there, until Surrounded and commanded, though not nigh Enough for seizure, near enough to die, The desperate trio held aloof their fate
But by a thread, like sharks who have gorged the bait ; Yet to the very last they battled well,
And not a groan informed their foes who fell.
Christian died last-twice wounded; and once more Mercy was offered when they saw his gore; Too late for life, but not too late to die, With, though a hostile hand, to close his eye. A limb was broken, and he drooped along
i. Too late it might be still at least to die.-[MS. D. erased.]
The crag, as doth a falcon reft of young.i. The sound revived him, or appeared to wake Some passion which a weakly gesture spake : He beckoned to the foremost, who drew nigh, But, as they neared, he reared his weapon high- His last ball had been aimed, but from his breast He tore the topmost button from his vest,1 ii. Down the tube dashed it-levelled-fired, and smiled As his foe fell; then, like a serpent, coiled His wounded, weary form, to where the steep Looked desperate as himself along the deep;
Cast one glance back, and clenched his hand, and shook His last rage 'gainst the earth which he forsook; Then plunged: the rock below received like glass His body crushed into one gory mass, With scarce a shred to tell of human form, Or fragment for the sea-bird or the worm;
A fair-haired scalp, besmeared with blood and weeds, Yet reeked, the remnant of himself and deeds; Some splinters of his weapons (to the last,
As long as hand could hold, he held them fast) Yet glittered, but at distance-hurled away To rust beneath the dew and dashing spray. The rest was nothing-save a life mis-spent, And soul-but who shall answer where it went? 'Tis ours to bear, not judge the dead; and they Who doom to Hell, themselves are on the way, Unless these bullies of eternal pains
Are pardoned their bad hearts for their worse brains.
i. The crag as droop a bird without her young.-[MS. D. erased.] ii. He tore a silver vest —.—[MS. D. erased.]
1. In Thibault's account of Frederick the Second of Prussia, there is a singular relation of a young Frenchman, who with his mistress appeared to be of some rank. He enlisted and deserted at Schweidnitz; and after a desperate resistance was retaken, having killed an officer, who attempted to seize him after he was wounded, by the discharge of his musket loaded with a button of his uniform. Some circumstances on his court-martial raised a great interest amongst his judges, who wished to discover his real situation in life, which he offered to disclose, but to the king only, to whom he requested permission to write. This was refused, and Frederic was filled with the greatest indignation, from baffled curiosity or some other motive, when he understood that his request had been denied. [Mes Souvenirs de vingt ans de séjour à Berlin, ou Frédéric Le Grand, etc., Paris, 1804, iv. 145-150.]
The deed was over! All were gone or ta'en, The fugitive, the captive, or the slain. Chained on the deck, where once, a gallant crew, They stood with honour, were the wretched few Survivors of the skirmish on the isle ; But the last rock left no surviving spoil. Cold lay they where they fell, and weltering, While o'er them flapped the sea-birds' dewy wing, Now wheeling nearer from the neighbouring surge, And screaming high their harsh and hungry dirge: But calm and careless heaved the wave below, Eternal with unsympathetic flow;
Far o'er its face the Dolphins sported on,
And sprung the flying fish against the sun,
Till its dried wing relapsed from its brief height, To gather moisture for another flight.
'Twas morn; and Neuha, who by dawn of day Swam smoothly forth to catch the rising ray,
And watch if aught approached the amphibious lair Where lay her lover, saw a sail in air :
It flapped, it filled, and to the growing gale
Bent its broad arch: her breath began to fail
With fluttering fear, her heart beat thick and high,
While yet a doubt sprung where its course might lie. 380 But no! it came not; fast and far away
The shadow lessened as it cleared the bay.
She gazed, and flung the sea-foam from her eyes,
To watch as for a rainbow in the skies.
On the horizon verged the distant deck,
Diminished, dwindled to a very speck
Then vanished. All was Ocean, all was Joy!
Down plunged she through the cave to rouse her boy; Told all she had seen, and all she hoped, and all
That happy love could augur or recall;
Sprung forth again, with Torquil following free
His bounding Nereid over the broad sea;
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