The Visions of England Part 18

Blenheim is fully described in Lord Stanhope's _Reign of Queen Anne_. Its importance as a critical battle in European history lies in the fact that the work of liberating the Great Alliance against the paramount power of France under Lewis XIV, (which England had unwisely fostered from Cromwell to James II), was secured by this victory. 'The loss of France could not be measured by men or fortresses. A hundred victories since Rocroi had taught the world to regard the armies of Lewis as all but invincible, when Blenheim and the surrender of the flower of the French soldiery broke the spell': (Green: _History of the English People_: B.

VIII: ch. iii).

'The French and Bavarians, who numbered, like their opponents, some fifty thousand men, lay behind a little stream which ran through swampy ground to the Danube . . . It was not till midday that Eugene, who commanded on the right, succeeded in crossing the stream. The English foot at once forded it on the left.' They were repelled for the time. But, in the centre, Marlborough, 'by making an artificial road across the mora.s.s which covered it,' in two desperate charges turned the day.

A map of 1705 in the _Annals of Queen Anne's Reign_, shows vast hillsides to the right of the Allies covered with wood. This map also specifies the advance of the English in nine columns.

_Only less_; 'Marlborough,' says Lord Stanhope, 'was a humane and compa.s.sionate man. Even in the eagerness to pursue fresh conquests he did not ever neglect the care of the wounded.'

AT HURSLEY IN MARDEN

1712

We count him wise, Timoleon, who in Syracuse laid down That gleaming bait of all men's eyes, And for his cottage changed the invidious crown; Moving serenely through his grayhair'd day 'Mid vines and olives gray.

He also, whom The load of double empire, half the world His own, within a living tomb Press'd down at Yuste,--Spain's great banner furl'd His winding-sheet around him,--while he strove The impalpable Above

Though mortal yet, To breathe, is blazon'd on the sages' roll:-- High soaring hearts, who could forget The sceptre, to the hermitage of the soul Retired, sweet solitudes of the musing eye, And let the world go by!

There, if the cup Of Time, that brims ere we can reach repose, Fill'd slow, the soul might summon up The strenuous heat of youth, the silenced foes; The deeds of fame, star-bright above the throne; The better deeds unknown.

There, when the cloud Eased its dark breast in thunder, and the light Ran forth, their hearts recall the loud Hoa.r.s.e onset roar, the flashing of the fight; Those other clouds piled-up in white array Whence deadlier lightnings play.

There, when the seas Murmur at midnight, and the dome is clear, And from their seats in heaven the breeze Loosens the stars, to blaze and disappear, _And such as Glory_! . . . with a sigh suppress'd They smile, and turn to rest.

--But he, who here Unglorious hides, untrain'd, unwilling Lord, The phantom king of half a year, From England's throne push'd by the bloodless sword, Unheirlike heir to that colossal fame;-- How should men name his name,

How rate his worth With those heroic ones who, life's labour done, Mark'd out their six-foot couch of earth, The laurell'd rest of manhood's battle won?

--Not so with him! . . . Yet, ere we turn away, A still small voice will say,

By other rule Than man's coa.r.s.e glory-test does G.o.d bestow His crowns: exalting oft the fool, So deem'd, and the world-hero levelling low.

--And he, who from the palace pa.s.s'd obscure, And honourably poor,

Spurning a throne Held by blood-tenure, 'gainst a nation's will; Lived on his narrow fields alone, Content life's common service to fulfil; Not careful of a carnage-bought renown, Or that precarious crown:--

Him count we wise, Him also! though the chorus of the throng Be silent: though no pillar rise In slavish adulation of the strong:-- But here, from blame of tongues and fame aloof, 'Neath a low chancel roof,

--The peace of G.o.d,-- He sleeps: unconscious hero! Lowly grave By village-footsteps daily trod Unconscious: or while silence holds the nave, And the bold robin comes, when day is dim, And pipes his heedless hymn.

_Timoleon_; was invited from Corinth by the Syracusans (B.C. 344) to be their leader in throwing off the tyranny of the second Dionysius. Having effected this, defeated the Carthaginian invaders, and reduced all the minor despotisms within Sicily, he voluntarily resigned his paramount power and died in honoured retirement.

_He also_; In 1556 the Emperor Charles V gave up all his dominions, withdrawing in 1557 to Yuste;--a monastery situated in a region of singular natural beauty, between Xarandilla and Plasencia in Estremadura.

He died there, Sep. 21, 1558.

_Loosens the stars_; So Vergil, _Georg_. I., 365:

Saepe etiam stellas vento inpendente videbis Praecipites caelo labi . . .

_The phantom king_; Richard Cromwell was Protector from Sep. 3, 1658 to May 25, 1659. After 1660 his life was that of a simple country gentleman, till his death in 1712, when he was buried at Hursley near Winchester.

_Unheirlike heir_; See _Appendix_ E.

CHARLES EDWARD AT ROME

1785

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O sunset, of the rise Unworthy!--that, so brave, so clear, so gay; This, prison'd in low-hanging earth-mists gray, And ever-darken'd skies:-- Sad sunset of a royal race in gloom, Accomplishing to the end the dolorous Stuart doom!

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Ghost of a king, he sate In Rome, the city of ghosts and thrones outworn, Drowsing his thoughts in wine;--a life forlorn; Pageant of faded state; Aged before old age, and all that Past, Like a forgotten thing of shame, behind him cast.

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Yet if by chance the cry Of the sharp pibroch through the palace thrill'd, He felt the pang of high hope unfulfill'd:-- And once, when one came by With the dear name of Scotland on his lips, The heart broke forth behind that forty-years' eclipse,

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Triumphant in its pain:-- Then the old days of Holyrood halls return'd The leaden lethargy from his soul he spurn'd, And was the Prince again:-- All Scotland waking in him; all her bold Chieftains and clans:--and all their tale, and his, he told:

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--Told how, o'er the boisterous seas From faithless France he danced his way Where Alban's thousand islands lay, The kelp-strown ridge of the lone Hebrides:-- How down each strath they stream'd as springtide rills, When he to Finnan vale Came from Glenaladale, And that snow-handful grew an avalanche of the hills.

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There Lochiel, Glengarry there, Macdonald, Cameron: souls untried In war, but stout in mountain-pride All odds against all worlds to laugh and dare: Unpurchaseable faith of chief and clan!

Enough! Their Prince has thrown Himself upon his own!

By hearts not heads they count, and manhood measures man!

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--Torrent from Lochaber sprung, Through Badenoch bare and Athole turn'd, The fettering Forth o'erpast and spurn'd, Then on the smiling South in fury flung; Now gather head with all thine affluent force, Draw forth the wild mellay!

At Gladsmuir is the fray; Scotland 'gainst England match'd: White Rose against White Horse!

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Cl.u.s.ter'd down the slope they go, Red clumps of ragged valour, down, While morn-mists yet the hill-top crown:-- Clan Colla! on!--the Camerons touch the foe!

One touch!--the battle breaks, the fight is fought, As summit-boulders glide Riddling the forest-side, And in one moment's crash an army melts to nought!

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