Page:Blackwood's Magazine volume 046.djvu/706

692 The Crowning of Charlemagne. [Nov. Wanes the hour—night's veil is drawn,
 * Sink the planets, one by one,

Earth awakes, 'tis lovely dawn!
 * Sweet and fresh the morning shone.
 * Rich with life the breezes blew,
 * From the thickets steep'd in dew.

Proud pavilions, through the haze,
 * Gleam like pyramids of snow;

Glowing in the golden rays—
 * But one standard's broader flow,
 * One vast eagle's shadowy wings,
 * Marks thy palace, King of Kings!

Now the huge imperial hive
 * Downward pours its fiery swarms;

All the mountain seems alive,
 * Thick with banners, thick with arms,
 * Rushing from the marble height,
 * Like a cataract of light!

In their centre rides a form,
 * Circled by his kingly peers,

Soul of council, battle's storm,
 * Sun of his surrounding spheres!
 * Rise the shouts from mount and plain,
 * "Charlemagne! mighty Charlemagne!

By his side an ancient priest
 * Rides, with humble garb and brow,

Clasp'd his hands upon his breast,
 * On his lips the mutter'd vow—
 * Pilgrim, thine's a stately home;
 * Exiled Leo comes to Rome!

O'er the "Eternal City's" walls
 * Rising, like a dome of gold,

Capitol of Capitols!
 * Where a thousand years have roll'd,
 * And a thousand roll'd in vain—
 * Shines St Peter's giant fane!

On they march, to clashing swords,
 * Grecian cymbal, Frankish horn,

Priestly chanting, shouting hordes:
 * Wildly shall the age unborn
 * Weep the pageant of that hour—
 * Rome, the birthday of thy power!

Now they reach the Temple gate;
 * Back the brazen barriers wheel.

'Twas the hour of Europe's fate!
 * Slavery—then was set thy seal!
 * Knowledge—then was shorn thy plume!
 * Freedom—then was dug thy tomb!

Yet all pomps that lure the eye—
 * Yet all bonds that bind the soul,—

Painting's glorious mystery,
 * Strains that on the spirit stole,
 * Jewell'd blaze, and shapes divine,
 * Stoop'd the world before the shrine.

For the tinsel on his brow,
 * There the Great Patrician gave

The sovereignty of all below!
 * Earth, a dungeon or a grave.
 * Charlemagne, thou hast gain'd a crown!
 * Pope, the living world's thine own!