Poems (Holford)/Carisbrooke: a Ballad
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CARISBROOKE:
A BALLAD.
Now woe to yon castle's ruthless tow'r!
Now woe to yon rugged wall!
And tenfold woe to the dreary hour
Which beheld our king in thrall;
Now woe to yon rugged wall!
And tenfold woe to the dreary hour
Which beheld our king in thrall;
Oh Carisbrook! how thou smilest now,
Like a rebel bold and gay!
Ah soon may the ivy on thy brow
Creep over thy ruins grey!
Like a rebel bold and gay!
Ah soon may the ivy on thy brow
Creep over thy ruins grey!
Then, he who views thy mouldering gate,
And stands in thy desert hall,
Shall breathe a curse on the rebel hate
Which decreed our martyr's fall:
And stands in thy desert hall,
Shall breathe a curse on the rebel hate
Which decreed our martyr's fall:
Whenever thy battlements shall lie
Inglorious in the dust,
Each Briton who marks thy destiny
Shall smile on a fate so just!
Inglorious in the dust,
Each Briton who marks thy destiny
Shall smile on a fate so just!
'Twas the dull and dusky twilight hour,
When close to his window grate,
Catching the breath of an April show'r
The captive sovereign sate:
When close to his window grate,
Catching the breath of an April show'r
The captive sovereign sate:
A tear glisten'd bright in Stuart's eye,
And his cheek was deadly pale,
And his bosom answer'd ev'ry sigh
Heav'd by the evening gale.
And his cheek was deadly pale,
And his bosom answer'd ev'ry sigh
Heav'd by the evening gale.
His cheek was pale, and his princely eye
Was fill'd with memory's tears,
As he ponder'd on the destiny
Which flatter'd his early years;
Was fill'd with memory's tears,
As he ponder'd on the destiny
Which flatter'd his early years;
He thought on the friends for him who died,
Yet was not that pang the worst;
He thought on friends who had left his side,
And felt as his heart would burst!
Yet was not that pang the worst;
He thought on friends who had left his side,
And felt as his heart would burst!
But he shudder'd, as in looking back
On the days forever lost,
Reflection 'mid the shadowy track
Met Strafford's headless ghost!
On the days forever lost,
Reflection 'mid the shadowy track
Met Strafford's headless ghost!
What armour can that breast defend
From Memory's home-struck blows?
The shade of one deserted friend,
Outfrowns a thousand foes!
From Memory's home-struck blows?
The shade of one deserted friend,
Outfrowns a thousand foes!
It plagues us in the silent hour,
It haunts us as we sleep,
It stays the heart-relieving show'r,
And mocks us as we weep!
It haunts us as we sleep,
It stays the heart-relieving show'r,
And mocks us as we weep!
The crown from off his sacred head
By rebels rudely torn,
An exil'd wife, and children fled,
The christian King had borne!
By rebels rudely torn,
An exil'd wife, and children fled,
The christian King had borne!
But when to Heaven he look'd and pray'd
To heal his agony,
Still murmur'd in his ear the shade—
"Thus did I hope in thee!"
To heal his agony,
Still murmur'd in his ear the shade—
"Thus did I hope in thee!"
Yet Stuart weep not! in yon skies,
Where thou shalt quickly be,
Say, can thy loyal servant prize
A life-drop shed for thee?
Where thou shalt quickly be,
Say, can thy loyal servant prize
A life-drop shed for thee?
Oh! the red-drop, the transient groan,
The struggle and farewel,
Were quickly pass'd, forever gone,
And but with memory dwell:
The struggle and farewel,
Were quickly pass'd, forever gone,
And but with memory dwell:
Nay, in that last, stern, bitter hour,
Even as the spirit fled,
The noble victim felt its pow'r,
And gloried as he bled!
Even as the spirit fled,
The noble victim felt its pow'r,
And gloried as he bled!
Oh! thickens fast the twilight shade,
Yet Stuart's aching eye
Pursues the dim lights as they fade
Along the silent sky:
Yet Stuart's aching eye
Pursues the dim lights as they fade
Along the silent sky:
Now all are gone! each glimm'ring ray
Has vanish'd in the west,
And all in night and silence lay
Like Stuart's dreary breast!
Has vanish'd in the west,
And all in night and silence lay
Like Stuart's dreary breast!
Bending to earth, behold the brow
Which holy balsam steep'd,
Oppress'd beneath a load of woe,
By heartless traitors heap'd!
Which holy balsam steep'd,
Oppress'd beneath a load of woe,
By heartless traitors heap'd!
Oh! spare him England! yet too late
The loyal hearts appeal!
E'en now he drains the cup of hate,
And feels what wretches feel!
The loyal hearts appeal!
E'en now he drains the cup of hate,
And feels what wretches feel!
If ever tyrant's irksome reign
Oh England! blot thy throne,
Bethink thee then, of Stuart's pain,
And Heav'n's justice own!
Oh England! blot thy throne,
Bethink thee then, of Stuart's pain,
And Heav'n's justice own!
If ever—but indignant lay,
Shalt thou prescribe to Heaven!
The traitor swarm is swept away,
And England is forgiven!
Shalt thou prescribe to Heaven!
The traitor swarm is swept away,
And England is forgiven!
Time, thro' thy mist, with daring eye
Even now the Bard can trace,
The hour when many a realm shall lie
Uprooted from its base.
Even now the Bard can trace,
The hour when many a realm shall lie
Uprooted from its base.
While Britain stems the storm alone,
Free 'mid a world of slaves,
Firm on her ocean-planted throne,
The empire of the waves!
Free 'mid a world of slaves,
Firm on her ocean-planted throne,
The empire of the waves!