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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
XV. THE FRENCH REVOLUTION AND NATIONAL APOSTASY.
Trampling a dark hill a red sun athwartI saw a host that rent their clothes and hair
And dashed their spread hands 'gainst the sunset glare
And cried, ‘Go from us, God, since God Thou art!
418
Court, camp, and senate hall, and mountain bare;
Our pomp Thou troublest, and our feast dost scare,
And with Thy temples dost confuse our mart!
Depart Thou from our hearing and our seeing:
Depart Thou from the works and ways of men
Their laws, their thoughts, the inmost of their being:
Black nightmare, hence, that earth may breathe again!’
‘Can God depart?’ I asked. A voice replied,
Close by, ‘Not so; each Sin at heart is Deicide.’
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |