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British War Poetry in the Age of Romanticism 1793-1815, by Betty T. Bennet, Edited by Orianne Smith

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1795.8
The Vision
Anon
The Cabinet, II (1795), pp. 35-36

We met, a hundred of us met,
    At Curfew in the field;
We talk'd of heav'n and Jesus Christ,
    And all devoutly kneel'd:
When lo! we saw, all of us saw,
    The star-light sky unclose,
And heard the far-high thunders roll
    Like seas where storm-wind blows.
We listen'd, in amazement lost,
    As still as stones for dread,
And heard the war proclaim'd above,
    And sins of nations read.
The sound was like a solemn psalm,
    That holy christians sing,
And by and by the noise was ceas'd
    Of all the angelic ring;
Yet still beyond the cloven sky
    We saw the sheet of fire,
Then came a voice, as from a throne,
    To all the heav'nly quire,
Which spake—'Tho' many men must fall,
    'I will that these prevail;
'To me the poor man's cause is dear.'—
    Then slowly sank a scale,
The hand that pois'd was lost in clouds,
    One shell did weighty seem,
But sceptres, scutcheons, mitres gold,
    Flew up and kick'd the beam.


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Published @ RC

September 2004