The Arsenal at Springfield
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- This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling,
- Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms;
- But front their silent pipes no anthem pealing
- Startles the villages with strange alarms.
- Ah! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary,
- When the death-angel touches those swift keys
- What loud lament and dismal Miserere
- Will mingle with their awful symphonies
- I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus,
- The cries of agony, the endless groan,
- Which, through the ages that have gone before us,
- In long reverberations reach our own.
- On helm and harness rings the Saxon hammer,
- Through Cimbric forest roars the Norseman's song,
- And loud, amid the universal clamor,
- O'er distant deserts sounds the Tartar gong.
- I hear the Florentine, who from his palace
- Wheels out his battle-bell with dreadful din,
- And Aztec priests upon their teocallis
- Beat the wild war-drums made of serpent's skin;
- The tumult of each sacked and burning village;
- The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns;
- The soldiers' revels in the midst of pillage;
- The wail of famine in beleaguered towns;
- The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder,
- The rattling musketry, the clashing blade;
- And ever and anon, in tones of thunder,
- The diapason of the cannonade.
- Is it, O man, with such discordant noises,
- With such accursed instruments as these,
- Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices,
- And jarrest the celestial harmonies?
- Were half the power, that fills the world with terror,
- Were half the wealth, bestowed on camps and courts,
- Given to redeem the human mind from error,
- There were no need of arsenals or forts:
- The warrior's name would be a name abhorred!
- And every nation, that should lift again
- Its hand against a brother, on its forehead
- Would wear forevermore the curse of Cain!
- Down the dark future, through long generations,
- The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease;
- And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations,
- I hear once more the voice of Christ say, "Peace!"
- Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals
- The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies!
- But beautiful as songs of the immortals,
- The holy melodies of love arise.
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