Page:Blackwood's Magazine volume 046.djvu/790

774 Armies with banners were beheld in air, And fiery cars and shapes with horrent hair; A snow-white steed came swiftly on their track— But who the fearful rider on his back? While these dread signs from man to man were told, Which made the impious tremble, awed the bold; Death from his quiver 'gainst the faithful hearts, Of those were godly shot his fatal darts; And so made way for wolves, when he removed The trusty shepherds whom the people loved. To fearful head the worst offences grew, Such as the oldest memory never knew. Unnatural murders, poisonings were rife, And every where a recklessness of life; Sins in high places one should blush to name, Foulest uncleanness without any shame; Oppression eating through the poor man's bones, That to the people gave not bread, but stones, That tore asunder nature's holiest ties, And bruised the quivering heart in law's disguise; Scorn of the gospel, pride that did defy The simple truth with gross idolatry; Vice mocking at the wisdom of the wise, And rioting in Gentile sorceries;— It needed not a prophet's power to know, What harvest from these baneful seeds should grow. Upon the branded forehead of the times, Gloom gather'd of unutterable crimes, While public criminals, a licensed band, Scatter'd rebellion through the fruitful land.


 * All was not lost, while faithful some remain'd

With love of country in their souls engrain'd. But tears for public guilt and public woes Must dim the lustre of the Sicel Rose, And grief disturb the lilies of the breast, Which from misplaced trust must lose its rest. Oh, royal lady! brief thy vernal smile, White innocence betray'd by hoary guile! Then weep the wrong done to thy youthful years, And let thy people see thy honest tears; So shall their love, as from a natural urn, E'en as it was at first, to thee return. Then shall the good triumphant win for thee The worthy homage of the truly free; Then shall no sudden fear thy slumber move, No birds of evil omen scare the dove, Now flutter'd from the lilies where they grow, Amid thy bosom's pure unsunned snow; Then shall thy heart its confidence maintain, And the Sicilian Rose bloom out again.