 | Ochil Idylls and Other Poems |  |
I.
His ancient boast was that his power was great;
But even his guarded empires were of sand:
Time round their towers passing a fondling hand,
They sank beneath a fondling that was Fate.
The Macedonian, and the Roman State,
Were but as yesterday, and do they stand?
What later power has ever been so grand?
What modern power, look round! is quite their mate?
But even his guarded empires were of sand:
Time round their towers passing a fondling hand,
They sank beneath a fondling that was Fate.
The Macedonian, and the Roman State,
Were but as yesterday, and do they stand?
What later power has ever been so grand?
What modern power, look round! is quite their mate?
The strength of these, when at their best, was built
On human weakness,—for the mass were slaves,
That throng'd to battle for a tyrant, spilt
Their own and others' lives, and fill'd the graves:
Comes not again such strength to toil for guilt,
And bleed, rewarded with the name of braves!
On human weakness,—for the mass were slaves,
That throng'd to battle for a tyrant, spilt
Their own and others' lives, and fill'd the graves:
Comes not again such strength to toil for guilt,
And bleed, rewarded with the name of braves!
| Ochil Idylls and Other Poems | |