 | Poems : medley and Palestina |  |
The Curse.
The righteous dieth day by day,
The merciful is borne apart;
And none receiveth it to heart,
Or saith, “Behold they 'scape away.”
The merciful is borne apart;
And none receiveth it to heart,
Or saith, “Behold they 'scape away.”
They 'scape from cruelty and stress;
They enter into perfect calm;
They sleep upon their beds of balm,
Each folded sweet in holiness.
They enter into perfect calm;
They sleep upon their beds of balm,
Each folded sweet in holiness.
But you, the sons of pagan shame,
Vile heritors of breeds perverse,
Draw near and hearken to the curse
That God hath bidden me proclaim.
Vile heritors of breeds perverse,
Draw near and hearken to the curse
That God hath bidden me proclaim.
O brood unholy, evil born,
Ye mock the voice that angels fear,
Ye thrust the tongue in wicked leer,
Ye open wide a mouth of scorn.
Ye mock the voice that angels fear,
Ye thrust the tongue in wicked leer,
Ye open wide a mouth of scorn.
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On every hill ye worship lies,
In every grove ye mutter spells,
And slay your sons in bloody dells
To gods who cannot hear their cries.
In every grove ye mutter spells,
And slay your sons in bloody dells
To gods who cannot hear their cries.
In rivulets of glen and cave
Ye pour your offerings of wine,
And call the senseless flints divine
That glimmer through the senseless wave.
Ye pour your offerings of wine,
And call the senseless flints divine
That glimmer through the senseless wave.
Shall I rejoice, Jehovah saith,
In rites and blasphemies like these,
In dances underneath the trees,
And chants upon the mountain heath?
In rites and blasphemies like these,
In dances underneath the trees,
And chants upon the mountain heath?
Behold, when foemen mount your wall,
And ye discern your temples blaze;
When slaughter reddens all your ways,
And spoilers run from hall to hall;
And ye discern your temples blaze;
When slaughter reddens all your ways,
And spoilers run from hall to hall;
When judgment overtakes your crime,
And ye beseech me from the dust;
Let those deliver whom ye trust,
The tempest-driven sons of time!
And ye beseech me from the dust;
Let those deliver whom ye trust,
The tempest-driven sons of time!
| Poems : medley and Palestina | |