 | The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield |  |
Tyrant not dastard, daring in his guilt
And fearless of its issues, Diomede
Frowned on the panic flight, and, in his wrath,
Man, earth and heaven, demons and gods defied.
“The craven people—e'en my very slaves
Have fled as dustborn vassals ever flee,
And I am left alone with marble gods
And howling savageness, 'mid showers of flame.
Gods! I trust not elysium feigned by them
Who make the earth a very mock of hell.
Ay, roar, yell, struggle till your fierce hearts burst!
And with thy thousand thunders shake the throne
Of Jove, Vesuvius! and the world confound!
I have not loved nor sought the love of man,
And higher than his nature I know not,
Nor lower; and alone I sit to laugh
At mortal fear and dare immortal hate,
For, if ought die not, 't is revenge and pain.”
And fearless of its issues, Diomede
Frowned on the panic flight, and, in his wrath,
Man, earth and heaven, demons and gods defied.
“The craven people—e'en my very slaves
Have fled as dustborn vassals ever flee,
And I am left alone with marble gods
And howling savageness, 'mid showers of flame.
Gods! I trust not elysium feigned by them
Who make the earth a very mock of hell.
Ay, roar, yell, struggle till your fierce hearts burst!
And with thy thousand thunders shake the throne
Of Jove, Vesuvius! and the world confound!
I have not loved nor sought the love of man,
And higher than his nature I know not,
Nor lower; and alone I sit to laugh
At mortal fear and dare immortal hate,
For, if ought die not, 't is revenge and pain.”
| The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield | |