University of Virginia Library


54

SONG OF THE KINGS OF GOLD.

Ours all are marble halls,
Amid untrodden groves,
Where music ever calls,
Where faintest perfume roves;
And thousands, toiling moan,
That gorgeous robes may fold,
The haughty forms alone
Of us—the Kings of Gold.

(Chorus.)

We cannot count our slaves,
Nothing bounds our sway,
Our will destroys and saves,
We let, we create, we slay.
Ha! ha! who are Gods?

55

Purple, and crimson, and blue,
Jewels, and silks, and pearl,
All splendours of form and hue,
Our charmed existence furl;
When dared shadow dim
The glow in our winecups rolled!
When drooped the banquet-hymn
Raised for the Kings of Gold!

(Chorus.)

We cannot count our slaves,
Nothing bounds our sway,
Our will destroys and saves,
We let, we create, we slay.
Ha! ha! who are Gods?
The earth, the earth, is ours!
Its corn, its fruits, its wine,
Its sun, its rain, its flowers,
Ours, all, all!—cannot shine
One sunlight ray, but where
Our mighty titles hold;
Wherever life is, there
Possess the Kings of Gold.

(Chorus.)

We cannot count our slaves,

56

Nothing bounds our sway,
Our will destroys and saves,
We let, we create, we slay.
Ha! ha! who are Gods?
And all on earth that lives,
Woman, and man, and child,
Us trembling homage gives;
Aye trampled, sport-defiled,
None dareth raise one frown,
Or slightest questioning hold;
Our scorn but strikes them down
To adore the Kings of Gold.

(Chorus.)

We cannot count our slaves,
Nothing bounds our sway,
Our will destroys and saves,
We let, we create, we slay.
Ha! ha! who are Gods?
On beds of azure down,
In halls of torturing light,
Our poisoned harlots moan,
And burning, toss to sight;

57

They are ours—for us they burn;
They are ours, to reject, to hold;
We taste—we exult—we spurn—
For we are the Kings of Gold.

(Chorus.)

We cannot count our slaves,
Nothing bounds our sway,
Our will destroys and saves,
We let, we create, we slay.
Ha! ha! who are Gods?
The father writhes a smile,
As we seize his red-lipped girl,
His white-loined wife; aye, while
Fierce millions burn, to hurl
Rocks on our regal brows,
Knives in our hearts to hold—
They pale, prepare them bows
At the step of the Kings of Gold.

(Chorus.)

We cannot count our slaves,
Nothing bounds our sway,
Our will destroys and saves,
We let, we create, we slay.
Ha! ha! who are Gods?

58

In a glorious sea of hate,
Eternal rocks we stand;
Our joy is our lonely state;
And our trust, our own right hand;
We frown, and nations shrink;
They curse, but our swords are old;
And the wine of their rage, deep drink
The dauntless Kings of Gold.

(Chorus.)

We cannot count our slaves,
Nothing bounds our sway,
Our will destroys and saves,
We let, we create, we slay.
Ha! ha! who are Gods?