| |
| BOUND for holy Palestine, | |
| Nimbly we brushed the level brine, | |
| All in azure steel arrayed; | |
| O’er the wave our weapons played, | |
| And made the dancing billows glow; | 5 |
| High upon the trophied prow, | |
| Many a warrior-minstrel swung | |
| His sounding harp, and boldly sung: | |
| “Syrian virgins, wail and weep, | |
| English Richard ploughs the deep! | 10 |
| Tremble, watchmen, as ye spy | |
| From distant towers, with anxious eye, | |
| The radiant range of shield and lance | |
| Down Damascus’ hills advance; | |
| From Sion’s turrets, as afar | 15 |
| Ye ken the march of Europe’s war! | |
| Saladin, thou paynim king, | |
| From Albion’s isle revenge we bring! | |
| On Acon’s spiry citadel, | |
| Though to the gale thy banners swell, | 20 |
| Pictured with the silver moon, | |
| England shall end thy glory soon! | |
| In vain to break our firm array, | |
| Thy brazen drums hoarse discord bray: | |
| Those sounds our rising fury fan: | 25 |
| English Richard in the van, | |
| On to victory we go,— | |
| A vaunting infidel the foe!” | |
| Blondel led the tuneful band, | |
| And swept the lyre with glowing hand. | 30 |
| Cyprus, from her rocky mound, | |
| And Crete, with piny verdure crowned, | |
| Far along the smiling main | |
| Echoed the prophetic strain. | |
| Soon we kissed the sacred earth | 35 |
| That gave a murdered Saviour birth! | |
| Then with ardor fresh endued, | |
| Thus the solemn song renewed: | |
| “Lo, the toilsome voyage past, | |
| Heaven’s favored hills appear at last! | 40 |
| Object of our holy vow, | |
| We tread the Tyrian valleys now. | |
| From Carmel’s almond-shaded steep | |
| We feel the cheering fragrance creep: | |
| O’er Engaddi’s shrubs of balm | 45 |
| Waves the date-empurpled palm; | |
| See Lebanon’s aspiring head | |
| Wide his immortal umbrage spread! | |
| Hail Calvary, thou mountain hoar, | |
| Wet with our Redeemer’s gore! | 50 |
| Ye, trampled tombs, ye fanes forlorn, | |
| Ye stones, by tears of pilgrims worn; | |
| Your ravished honors to restore, | |
| Fearless we climb this hostile shore! | |
| And, thou, the sepulchre of God, | 55 |
| By mocking pagans rudely trod, | |
| Bereft of every awful rite, | |
| And quenched thy lamps that beamed so bright: | |
| For thee, from Britain’s distant coast, | |
| Lo, Richard leads his faithful host! | 60 |
| Aloft in his heroic hand, | |
| Blazing like the beacon’s brand, | |
| O’er the far-affrighted fields, | |
| Resistless Kaliburn he wields. | |
| Proud Saracen, pollute no more | 65 |
| The shrines by martyrs built of yore! | |
| From each wild mountain’s trackless crown | |
| In vain thy gloomy castles frown: | |
| Thy battering-engines, huge and high, | |
| In vain our steel-clad steeds defy; | 70 |
| And, rolling in terrific state, | |
| On giant wheels harsh thunders grate. | |
| When eve has hushed the buzzing camp, | |
| Amid the moonlight vapors damp, | |
| Thy necromantic forms, in vain, | 75 |
| Haunt us on the tented plain: | |
| We bid those spectre-shapes avaunt, | |
| Ashtaroth and Termagaunt! | |
| With many a demon, pale of hue, | |
| Doomed to drink the bitter dew | 80 |
| That drops from Macon’s sooty tree, | |
| Mid the dread grove of ebony. | |
| Nor magic charms nor fiends of hell | |
| The Christian’s holy courage quell. | |
| “Salem, in ancient majesty | 85 |
| Arise, and lift thee to the sky! | |
| Soon on the battlements divine | |
| Shall wave the badge of Constantine. | |
| Ye barons to the sun unfold | |
| Our cross, with crimson wove and gold!” | 90 |
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