380 The illustrious wife of Roland, in the hour Of her composure, felt that agony, And gave it vent in her last words.

[U] O Friend! It was a lamentable time for man, Whether a hope had e'er been his or not; 385 A woful time for them whose hopes survived The shock; most woful for those few who still Were flattered, and had trust in human kind: They had the deepest feeling of the grief.
Meanwhile the Invaders fared as they deserved: 390 The Herculean Commonwealth had put forth her arms, And throttled with an infant godhead's might The snakes about her cradle; that was well, And as it should be; yet no cure for them Whose souls were sick with pain of what would be 395 Hereafter brought in charge against mankind.
Most melancholy at that time, O Friend! Were my day-thoughts,--my nights were miserable; Through months, through years, long after the last beat Of those atrocities, the hour of sleep 400 To me came rarely charged with natural gifts, Such ghastly visions had I of despair And tyranny, and implements of death; And innocent victims sinking under fear, And momentary hope, and worn-out prayer, 405 Each in his separate cell, or penned in crowds For sacrifice, and struggling with fond mirth And levity in dungeons, where the dust Was laid with tears.

Then suddenly the scene Changed, and the unbroken dream entangled me 410 In long orations, which I strove to plead Before unjust tribunals,--with a voice Labouring, a brain confounded, and a sense, Death-like, of treacherous desertion, felt In the last place of refuge--my own soul.

415 When I began in youth's delightful prime To yield myself to Nature, when that strong And holy passion overcame me first, Nor day nor night, evening or morn, was free From its oppression.

But, O Power Supreme! 420 Without Whose call this world would cease to breathe, Who from the fountain of Thy grace dost fill The veins that branch through every frame of life, Making man what he is, creature divine, In single or in social eminence, 425 Above the rest raised infinite ascents When reason that enables him to be Is not sequestered--what a change is here! How different ritual for this after-worship, What countenance to promote this second love! 430 The first was service paid to things which lie Guarded within the bosom of Thy will.
Therefore to serve was high beatitude; Tumult was therefore gladness, and the fear Ennobling, venerable; sleep secure, 435 And waking thoughts more rich than happiest dreams.
But as the ancient Prophets, borne aloft In vision, yet constrained by natural laws With them to take a troubled human heart, Wanted not consolations, nor a creed 440 Of reconcilement, then when they denounced, On towns and cities, wallowing in the abyss Of their offences, punishment to come; Or saw, like other men, with bodily eyes, Before them, in some desolated place, 445 The wrath consummate and the threat fulfilled; So, with devout humility be it said, So, did a portion of that spirit fall On me uplifted from the vantage-ground Of pity and sorrow to a state of being 450 That through the time's exceeding fierceness saw Glimpses of retribution, terrible, And in the order of sublime behests: But, even if that were not, amid the awe Of unintelligible chastisement, 455 Not only acquiescences of faith Survived, but daring sympathies with power, Motions not treacherous or profane, else why Within the folds of no ungentle breast Their dread vibration to this hour prolonged?
460 Wild blasts of music thus could find their way Into the midst of turbulent events; So that worst tempests might be listened to.
Then was the truth received into my heart, That, under heaviest sorrow earth can bring, 465 If from the affliction somewhere do not grow Honour which could not else have been, a faith, An elevation and a sanctity, If new strength be not given nor old restored, The blame is ours, not Nature's.