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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!
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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 | |