 | Julia Alpinula |  |
XXV.
O War! thou miscreating curse!Dark Juggler of the universe!
How hast thou marred this glorious globe!
Throwing round thee thy scarlet robe,
And masking with the rainbow's blaze
Of gemlike beauty thy fierce face;
Thou hast deceived from Time's first ages,
Its mighty Captains, lords, and sages,
Till they and the strong multitude
Thy mad, remorseless smiles have wooed;
And, drunk with thy bewildering song
From horn, or harp, or cymbalon,
Done deeds which might the lion shame,
And make the nations pale to name.
For Priests, their mitres are thy mirth,
Thy panders are the kings of earth:
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Charioted, with the hideous hum
Of thousands, who, where'er it reels,
Perish beneath thy waggon wheels:
When given the groaning death they ask,
Thy visage thou dost then unmask,
Like the Veiled Fiend of Khorrassan,
And on thy wolfish brow we scan
The thunder-graven mark of Cain,
Heaven's warning impress, stamped in vain;
Eyeballs that act the Gorgon's part,
A hydra's head, a viper's heart,
The penal fire around whose core,
Shall redly burn for evermore!
| Julia Alpinula | |