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Charles G. Eastman
Burnet.
By C. G. Eastman.
"'So,' muttered the dark and musing prince, unconscious of the throng, 'so perishes the Race of Iron. Low lies the last Baron that could control and command the people. The Age of Force expires with knighthood and deeds of arms. And over this dead great man I see the new cycle dawns. Happy, henceforth, he who can plot, and scheme, and fawn, and smile.'"
And so the Race of Iron passed—
So Burnet's bloody field
Saw, cold and still, its lion heart
Lie crushed with Warwick's shield;
And when the victor's trumpet rang
Above his fallen head,
The age of knightly deeds had passed—
The Baron-power was dead.
So Burnet's bloody field
Saw, cold and still, its lion heart
Lie crushed with Warwick's shield;
And when the victor's trumpet rang
Above his fallen head,
The age of knightly deeds had passed—
The Baron-power was dead.
Lord of a hundred baronies,
Chief of a mighty race,
His lightest word the people's law,
The throne his knotted mace;
Girt by his more than royal host,
He heard his war-trump ring,
And towered among his barons bold,
Too proud to be a king.
Chief of a mighty race,
His lightest word the people's law,
The throne his knotted mace;
Girt by his more than royal host,
He heard his war-trump ring,
And towered among his barons bold,
Too proud to be a king.
But Time was working wondrous change,
And from his native realm
Were passing fast the Barons' rule,
The haubert and the helm.
The land was dealt to nobles new,
And men of foreign birth,
And London loons were swarming round
The broad old Norman hearth.
And from his native realm
Were passing fast the Barons' rule,
The haubert and the helm.
The land was dealt to nobles new,
And men of foreign birth,
And London loons were swarming round
The broad old Norman hearth.
His Age had perished, and the Race
That gave the Age renown
Fell with it, and the Castle bowed
In silence to the Town.
Low lay its great and mighty Chief,
Its last and noblest man,
And dawning o'er his broken brand
The Age of Trade began:
That gave the Age renown
Fell with it, and the Castle bowed
In silence to the Town.
Low lay its great and mighty Chief,
Its last and noblest man,
And dawning o'er his broken brand
The Age of Trade began:
The Age when Barter sneered at Birth,
And parchment pedigrees
Outweighed the names the Normans bore
Across the stormy seas;
When shone no more the honest brow
Beneath the burgonot,
And men began to fawn, and smile,
And cheat, and lie, and plot:
And parchment pedigrees
Outweighed the names the Normans bore
Across the stormy seas;
When shone no more the honest brow
Beneath the burgonot,
And men began to fawn, and smile,
And cheat, and lie, and plot:
When knaves trod on the knightly heel,
And Avarice, like a rust,
Eat out the brave old chivalry,
And swords grew thick with dust;
When churls and serfs grew fat with gain,
And villains bought the land,
And scorned the iron men of yore,
The battle-axe and brand.
And Avarice, like a rust,
Eat out the brave old chivalry,
And swords grew thick with dust;
When churls and serfs grew fat with gain,
And villains bought the land,
And scorned the iron men of yore,
The battle-axe and brand.
The pen usurped the sword; the loom,
The mace; the plough, the spear;
And Agriculture cut the grain
Where rang the battle cheer;
And men began to feel the rule
Of Trade, more potent grown
Than baron grim, or iron earl,
Or monarch on his throne.
The mace; the plough, the spear;
And Agriculture cut the grain
Where rang the battle cheer;
And men began to feel the rule
Of Trade, more potent grown
Than baron grim, or iron earl,
Or monarch on his throne.
'T was best, perhaps: yet from the Age
When trick and traffic came;
When knights turned knaves, and ladies fair
Grew false to woman's fame;
The Age in mincing merchant-kings
And London tailors great;
When craft and cunning, fawn and fraud,
Began to rule the state:
When trick and traffic came;
When knights turned knaves, and ladies fair
Grew false to woman's fame;
The Age in mincing merchant-kings
And London tailors great;
When craft and cunning, fawn and fraud,
Began to rule the state:
We turn, great Baron! to the men
That crowned thy regal times,
Admire their rude, gigantic strength,
And half forget their crimes.
The castle nursed a mighty race—
A race of Nature's mould;
And worth meant something more than wealth,
And grandeur, more than gold.
That crowned thy regal times,
Admire their rude, gigantic strength,
And half forget their crimes.
The castle nursed a mighty race—
A race of Nature's mould;
And worth meant something more than wealth,
And grandeur, more than gold.
Those monarch earls and lion lords,
And barons stout and brave,
Despised the crawling sycophant,
The sleek and cringing knave;
Their grim baronial banners told
Of battles they had fought;
Of honors passed from sire to son,
And not of titles bought.
And barons stout and brave,
Despised the crawling sycophant,
The sleek and cringing knave;
Their grim baronial banners told
Of battles they had fought;
Of honors passed from sire to son,
And not of titles bought.
But trade and traffic, stock and steam,
The platter and the plough,
The mallet and the milliner
Are lord and lady now.
The Castle crowns the mousing mart,
The Palace sails the deep,
Ambition mounts to bantam hens.
And chivalry to sheep.
The platter and the plough,
The mallet and the milliner
Are lord and lady now.
The Castle crowns the mousing mart,
The Palace sails the deep,
Ambition mounts to bantam hens.
And chivalry to sheep.
The Earl discusses curly blues,
The Baron runs to seed,
And Fame combines a purgative.
And Skill invents a mead;
Nobility is stock and starch,
And greatness fat sirloin;
And worth and quality are found
In calico and coin.
The Baron runs to seed,
And Fame combines a purgative.
And Skill invents a mead;
Nobility is stock and starch,
And greatness fat sirloin;
And worth and quality are found
In calico and coin.