List’ning he pauses on the embattled plain, 70
Then speeding swiftly o’er the ensanguined heath,
Has left the frightful work to Hell and Death. 
See! gory Ruin yokes his blood-stained car,
He scents the battle’s carnage from afar;
Hell and Destruction mark his mad career, 75
He tracks the rapid step of hurrying Fear;
Whilst ruined towns and smoking cities tell,
That thy work, Monarch, is the work of Hell. 
‘It is thy work!’ I hear a voice repeat,
Shakes the broad basis of thy bloodstained seat; 80
And at the orphan’s sigh, the widow’s moan,
Totters the fabric of thy guilt-stained throne—­
‘It is thy work, O Monarch;’ now the sound
Fainter and fainter, yet is borne around,
Yet to enthusiast ears the murmurs tell 85
That Heaven, indignant at the work of Hell,
Will soon the cause, the hated cause remove,
Which tears from earth peace, innocence, and love.

NOTE: 
War:  the title is Woodberry’s, 1893; no title, 1810.

***

FRAGMENT:  SUPPOSED TO BE AN EPITHALAMIUM OF FRANCIS RAVAILLAC AND CHARLOTTE CORDAY.

’Tis midnight now—­athwart the murky air,
Dank lurid meteors shoot a livid gleam;
From the dark storm-clouds flashes a fearful glare,
It shows the bending oak, the roaring stream.

I pondered on the woes of lost mankind, 5
I pondered on the ceaseless rage of Kings;
My rapt soul dwelt upon the ties that bind
The mazy volume of commingling things,
When fell and wild misrule to man stern sorrow brings.

I heard a yell—­it was not the knell, 10
When the blasts on the wild lake sleep,
That floats on the pause of the summer gale’s swell,
O’er the breast of the waveless deep.

I thought it had been death’s accents cold
That bade me recline on the shore; 15
I laid mine hot head on the surge-beaten mould,
And thought to breathe no more.

But a heavenly sleep
That did suddenly steep
In balm my bosom’s pain, 20
Pervaded my soul,
And free from control,
Did mine intellect range again.

Methought enthroned upon a silvery cloud,
Which floated mid a strange and brilliant light; 25
My form upborne by viewless aether rode,
And spurned the lessening realms of earthly night. 
What heavenly notes burst on my ravished ears,
What beauteous spirits met my dazzled eye! 
Hark! louder swells the music of the spheres, 30
More clear the forms of speechless bliss float by,
And heavenly gestures suit aethereal melody.