The Bride of Fort Edward by Bacon, Delia, 1811-1859

_1st Stud_. There will be weeping, Frank, from older eyes, Or e'er again that blessed time shall come. Hearts strong and glad now, must be broke ere then: Wild tragedies, that for the days to come Shall faery pastime make, must yet ere then Be acted here; ay, with the genuine clasp Of anguish, and fierce stabs, not buried in silk robes, But in hot hearts, and sighs from wrung souls' depths. And they shall walk in light that we have made, They of the days to come, and sit in shadow Of our blood-reared vines, not counting the wild cost. Thus 'tis: among glad ages many,--one-- In garlands lies, bleeding and bound. Times past, And times to come, on ours, as on an altar-- Have laid down their griefs, and unto us Is given the burthen of them all.

_2nd Stud_. And yet, See now, how pleasantly the sun shines there Over the yellow fields, to the brown fence Its hour of golden beauty--giving still. And but for that faint ringing from the fort, That comes just now across the vale to us, And this small band of soldiers planted here, I could think this was peace, so calmly there, The afternoon amid the valley sleeps.

_1st Stud_. Yet in the bosom of this gentle time, The crisis of an age-long struggle heaves.

_2nd Stud_. _Age-long?_--Why, this land's history can scarce Be told in ages, yet.

_1st Stud_. But this war's can. In that small isle beyond the sea, Francis, Ages, ages ago, its light first blazed. This is the war. Old, foolish, blind prerogative, In ermines wrapped, and sitting on king's thrones; Against young reason, in a peasant's robe His king's brow hiding. For the infant race Weaves for itself the chains its manhood scorns, (When time hath made them adamant, alas!--) The reverence of humanity, that gold Which makes power's glittering round, ordained of God But for the lovely majesty of right, Unto a mad usurper, yielding, all, Making the low and lawless will of man Vicegerent of that law and will divine, Whose image only, reason hath, on earth. This is the struggle:--_here_, we'll fight it out. 'Twas all too narrow and too courtly _there_; In sight of that old pageantry of power We were, in truth, the children of the past, Scarce knowing our own time: but here, we stand In nature's palaces, and we are _men_;-- Here, grandeur hath no younger dome than this; And now, the strength which brought us o'er the deep, Hath grown to manhood with its nurture here,-- Now that they heap on us abuses, that Had crimsoned the first William's cheek, to name,-- We're ready now--for our last grapple with blind power.

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DIALOGUE II.

SCENE. _The same. A group of ragged soldiers in conference_.