Page:The poetical works of William Blake; a new and verbatim text from the manuscript engraved and letterpress originals (1905).djvu/75

 The moon I walk'd abroad, when all had pitch'd

Their tents, and all were still;

I heard a blooming youth singing a song

He had compos'd, and at each pause he wip'd

His dropping eyes. The ditty was, 'if he

Return'd victorious, he should wed a maiden

Fairer than snow, and rich as midsummer.'

Another wept, and wish'd health to his father.

I chid them both, but gave them noble hopes.

These are the minds that glory in the battle,

And leap and dance to hear the trumpet sound.

King. Sir Thomas Dagworth, be thou near our person;

Thy heart is richer than the vales of France:

I will not part with such a man as thee.

If Philip came arm'd in the ribs of death,

And shook his mortal dart against my head,

Thou'dst laugh his fury into nerveless shame!

Go now, for thou art suited to the work,

Throughout the camp; enflame the timorous,

Blow up the sluggish into ardour, and

Confirm the strong with strength, the weak inspire,

And wing their brows with hope and expectation:

Then to our tent return, and meet to council.

Chand. That man's a hero in his closet, and more

A hero to the servants of his house

Than to the gaping world; he carries windows

In that enlarged breast of his, that all

May see what's done within.

Prince. He is a genuine Englishman, my Chandos,

And hath the spirit of Liberty within him.

Forgive my prejudice, Sir John; I think

My Englishmen the bravest people on

The face of the earth.

Chand. Courage, my Lord, proceeds from self-dependence.

Teach man to think he's a free agent,

Give but a slave his liberty, he'll shake

Off sloth, and build himself a hut, and hedge

A spot of ground; this he'll defend; 'tis his

By right of nature: thus set in action.

He will still move onward to plan conveniences,

'Til! glory fires his breast to enlarge his castle;

While the poor slave drudges all day, in hope

To rest at night.

King. O Liberty, how glorious art thou!

I see thee hov'ring o'er my army, with

Thy wide-stretch'd plumes; I see thee

Lead them on to battle;

I see thee blow thy golden trumpet, while

Thy sons shout the strong shout of victory!

O noble Chandos, think thyself a gardener, Rh