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THE MATERIALIST'S RELIGION;

OR, PESSIMISM'S ‘DOWNWARD WAY.’

Ye Twelve Olympians crowned for aye,
Hurl back the Furies and the Fates!
Nightmares of Conscience, hence, away,
Beyond your famed Tartarean Gates!
Ye Woodgods, Lords of Lawlessness,
That din the dusk with bounding hoof,
Drive back the Olympian Twelve no less:
Their starry stillness means Reproof.
Ye children, scare with cowslip ball
Those Woodgods last! With idle breath
They mock that king who draggeth all
Into his own dread silence—Death.
Faith darkens, Love distempers, life:
The chaplets fade on Fancy's brow:
Come, Iris, with thy painless knife:
The last of Gods, and best, art thou!