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lirik lagu gideon wagner - france an ode - samuel taylor coleridge

ye clouds! that far above me float and pause
whose pathless march no mortal may control!
ye ocean~waves! that, wheresoe’er ye roll
yield homage only to eternal laws!
ye woods! that listen to the night~birds singing
midway the smooth and perilous slope reclined
save when your own imperious branches swinging
have made a solemn music of the wind!
where, like a man beloved of god
through glooms, which never woodman trod
how oft, pursuing fancies holy
my moonlight way o’er flowering weeds i wound
inspired, beyond the guess of folly
by each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound!
o ye loud waves! and o ye forests high!
and o ye clouds that far above me soared!
thou rising sun! thou blue rejoicing sky!
yea, every thing that is and will be free!
bear witness for me, wheresoe’er ye be
with what deep worship i have still adored
the spirit of divinest liberty

when france in wrath her giant~limbs upreared
and with that oath, which smote air, earth, and sea
stamped her strong foot and said she would be free
bear witness for me, how i hoped and feared!
with what a joy my lofty gratulation
unawed i sang, amid a slavish band:
and when to whelm the disenchanted nation
like fiends embattled by a wizard’s wand
the monarchs marched in evil day
and britain joined the dire array;
though dear her shores and circling ocean
though many friendships, many youthful loves
had swoln the patriot emotion
and flung a magic light o’er all her hills and groves;
yet still my voice, unaltered, sang defeat
to all that braved the tyrant~quelling lance
and shame too long delayed and vain retreat!
for ne’er, o liberty! with partial aim
i dimmed thy light or damped thy holy flame;
but blessed the paeans of delivered france
and hung my head and wept at britain’s name
“and what,” i said, “though blasphemy’s loud scream
with that sweet music of deliverance strove!
though all the fierce and drunken passions wove
a dance more wild than e’er was maniac’s dream!
ye storms, that round the dawning east assembled
the sun was rising, though ye hid his light!”
and when, to soothe my soul, that hoped and trembled
the dissonance ceased, and all seemed calm and bright;
when france her front deep~scarr’d and gory
concealed with cl~stering wreaths of glory;
when, insupportably advancing
her arm made mockery of the warrior’s ramp;
while timid looks of fury glancing
domestic treason, crushed beneath her fatal stamp
writhed like a wounded dragon in his gore;
then i reproached my fears that would not flee;
“and soon,” i said, “shall wisdom teach her lore
in the low huts of them that toil and groan!
and, conquering by her happiness alone
shall france compel the nations to be free
till love and joy look round, and call the earth their own.”

forgive me, freedom! o forgive those dreams!
i hear thy voice, i hear thy loud lament
from bleak helvetia’s icy caverns sent—
i hear thy groans upon her blood~stained streams!
heroes, that for your peaceful country perished
and ye that, fleeing, spot your mountain~snows
with bleeding wounds; forgive me, that i cherished
one thought that ever blessed your cruel foes!
to scatter rage, and traitorous guilt
where peace her jealous home had built;
a patriot~race to disinherit
of all that made their stormy wilds so dear;
and with inexpiable spirit
to taint the bloodless freedom of the mountaineer—
o france, that mockest heaven, adulterous, blind
and patriot only in pernicious toils!
are these thy boasts, champion of human kind?
to mix with kings in the low l~st of sway
yell in the hunt, and share the murderous prey;
to insult the shrine of liberty with spoils
from freemen torn; to tempt and to betray?
the sensual and the dark rebel in vain
slaves by their own compulsion! in mad game
they burst their manacles and wear the name
of freedom, graven on a heavier chain!
o liberty! with profitless endeavour
have i pursued thee, many a weary hour;
but thou nor swell’st the victor’s strain, nor ever
didst breathe thy soul in forms of human power
alike from all, howe’er they praise thee
(nor prayer, nor boastful name delays thee)
alike from priestcraft’s harpy minions
and factious blasphemy’s obscener slaves
thou speedest on thy subtle pinions
the guide of homeless winds, and playmate of the waves!
and there i felt thee!—on that sea~cliff’s verge
whose pines, scarce travelled by the breeze above
had made one murmur with the distant surge!
yes, while i stood and gazed, my temples bare
and shot my being through earth, sea, and air
possessing all things with intensest love
o liberty! my spirit felt thee there

- lirik lagu gideon wagner

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