Classic Poem

'Twas the height of the world's night, there was neither warmth nor light,
And the heart of Earth was heavy as a stone;
Yet the nations sick with loss saw the surge of heaven toss
Round the meteor of the Cross; and with a moan
All the people desolate gazed thereon and question'd fate,
And the wind went by and bit them to the bone.

Hope was fled and Faith was dead, and the black pell overhead
Hung like Death's, for doom was heavy everywhere, —
When there rose a sudden gleam, then a thunder, then a scream,
Then a lightning, stream on stream aslant the air!
And a dreadful ray was shed around the Cross, and it grew red,
And the pallid people leapt to see the glare.

Fire on the heights of France! Fire on the heights of France!
Fire flaming up to heaven, streak on streak!
How on France Kings look't askance! how the nations join'd in dance!
To see the glory glance from peak to peak!
How the chain'd lands curst their chance, as they bent their eyes on France!
Earth answer'd, and her tongues began to speak.

Now hark! — who lit the spark in the miserable dark?
O Washington, men miss thee and forget.
Where did the light arise, in answer to man's cries?
In the West; in those far skies it rose and set.
Who brought it in his breast from the liberated West?
Speak his name, and kneel and bless him: Lafayette.

O Sire, that madest Fire! How with passionate desire
Leapt the nations while it gather'd and up-streamed;
Then they fed it, to earth's groans, with Man's flesh and blood and bones,
And with Altars and with Thrones; and still it screamed.
Then they cast a King thereon — but a flash, and he was gone.
Then they brought a Queen to feed it: — how it gleam'd!

Then it came to pass, Earth's frame seem'd dissolving in the flame,
Then it seem'd the Soul was shaken on its seat,
And the pale Kings with thin cries look'd in one another's eyes,
Saying. " Hither now it flies, and O how fleet!
Sound loud the battle-cry, we must trample France or die,
Strike the Altar, cast it down beneath our feet."

Forth they fared. The red fire flared on the heights of France, and glared
On the faces of the free who kept it fed;
Came the Kings with blinded eyes, but with baffled prayers and cries
They beheld it grow and rise, still bloody-red;
When lo! the Fire's great heart, like a red rose cloven apart
Open'd swiftly, to deep thunder overhead.

And lo, amid the glow, while the pale Kings watched woe,
Rose a single SHAPE , and stood upon the pyre.
Its eyes were deeply bright, and its face, in their sad sight,
Was pallid in a white-heat of desire,
And the cheek was ashen hued; and with folded arms it stood
And smiled bareheaded, fawn'd on by the Fire!

Forehead bare, the Shape stood there, in the centre of the glare,
And cried, " Away ye Kings, or ye shall die."
And it drave them back with flame, o'er the paths by which they came,
And they wrung their hands in shame as they did fly.
As they fled it came behind fleeter-footed than the wind,
And it scatter'd them, and smote them hip and thigh.

All amazed, they stood and gazed, while their crying kingdoms blazed,
With their fascinated eyes upon the Thing; —
When lo, as clouds dilate, it grew greater and more great,
And beneath it waited Fate with triple sting;
All collossus-like and grand, it bestrode the sea and land,
And behold the crownid likeness of a King!

Then the light upon the height, that had burned in all men's sight
Was absorb'd into the creature where he smiled.
O his face was wild and wan — but the burning current ran
In the red veins of the Man who was its child: —
To the sob of the world's heart did the meteor-light depart,
Earth darken, and the Altar fall defiled.

The aloud the Phantom vow'd, " Look upon me, O ye proud!
Kiss my footprints! I am reaper, ye are wheat!
Ye shall tremble at my name, ye shall eat my bread in shame,
I will make ye gather tame beneath my Seat."
And the gold that had been bright on the hair of Kings at night,
Ere dawn was shining dust about his feet.

At this hour behold him tower, in the darkness of his power,
Look upon him, search his features, O ye free!
Is there hope for living things in this fiery King of Kings,
Doth the song that Freedom sings fit such as he?
Is it night or is it day, while ye bleed beneath his sway?
It is night, deep night on earth and air and sea.

Still the height of the world's night. There is neither warmth nor light,
And the heart of Earth is heavy as a stone;
And within the night's dark core where the sad Cross gleam'd before
Sits the Shape that Kings adore, upon a Throne;
And the nations desolate crawl beneath and curse their fate,
And the wind goes by and bites them to the bone.

O Sire that mad'st the Fire, and the Shape that dread and dire
Came from thence, the first and last born of the same,
To Thee we praying throng, for Thou alone art strong,
To right our daily wrong and bitter shame:
From the aching breast of earth, lift the red Fire and its birth!
Consume them — let them vanish in one flame!