 | English Roses |  |
O BAAL, HEAR US!
Baal is king
Of our latter society,
Secular, sacred—both under his wing,
Schooling and fooling each modern variety
Heedless of codes or a plain contrariety—
Baal is king!
Broaden his temples and gather him gold
All of the finest, a generous fee;
Spinsters may fret and the dowager scold,
Yet must we offer our best for his coffer,
Whether we earn or abstract what we proffer—
Bowing the knee.
Of our latter society,
Secular, sacred—both under his wing,
Schooling and fooling each modern variety
Heedless of codes or a plain contrariety—
Baal is king!
Broaden his temples and gather him gold
All of the finest, a generous fee;
Spinsters may fret and the dowager scold,
Yet must we offer our best for his coffer,
Whether we earn or abstract what we proffer—
Bowing the knee.
Baal is Lord
Of the soul and the body,
Swaying the sceptre or baring the sword;
Feared by philosopher, friend to the noddy—
Clothed in the life of the sham and the shoddy—
Baal is Lord!
Burn to him incense and pray at his shrine
Mumbling petitions though dying or dead,
Bringing him treasures of women and wine;
Clamour and caring, and spoil without sparing
Down to the last little crumb or least paring—
Bowing the head.
Of the soul and the body,
Swaying the sceptre or baring the sword;
Feared by philosopher, friend to the noddy—
Clothed in the life of the sham and the shoddy—
Baal is Lord!
Burn to him incense and pray at his shrine
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Bringing him treasures of women and wine;
Clamour and caring, and spoil without sparing
Down to the last little crumb or least paring—
Bowing the head.
Baal is God
And his cloisters are clouded,
Worn by the worshippers' feet that have trod
Daily and gaily each avenue crowded
Deep with his awe and in mystery shrouded—
Baal is God!
Sacrifice victims, your babies and wives,
Leaving the happiest homes but a wreck
Pallid with perishing loves and your lives;
Grudge not the nearest and lavish your dearest,
Though the young light of the morning is clearest—
Bowing the neck.
And his cloisters are clouded,
Worn by the worshippers' feet that have trod
Daily and gaily each avenue crowded
Deep with his awe and in mystery shrouded—
Baal is God!
Sacrifice victims, your babies and wives,
Leaving the happiest homes but a wreck
Pallid with perishing loves and your lives;
Grudge not the nearest and lavish your dearest,
Though the young light of the morning is clearest—
Bowing the neck.
Baal is best
And he asks not for morals,
Only the paint and his dupes to be drest;
Dealing then largely the bells and the corals
Suited to slaves who aspire not to laurels—
Baal is best!
Give him your heart or the masking at most,
One in the end and a mockery still—
Even if conscience arise as a ghost;
Study mere manners, and strive for the banners
Waved over wisdom that puffeth his planners—
Bowing the will.
And he asks not for morals,
Only the paint and his dupes to be drest;
Dealing then largely the bells and the corals
Suited to slaves who aspire not to laurels—
Baal is best!
Give him your heart or the masking at most,
One in the end and a mockery still—
Even if conscience arise as a ghost;
Study mere manners, and strive for the banners
Waved over wisdom that puffeth his planners—
Bowing the will.
Baal is all
Though the fools are religious,
Looking to Christ and obeying His call
Dumbly and humbly in service litigious,
Prating of doctrines and doings prodigious—
Baal is all!
Work for him, weep for him, honour him yet
Drudging along the same weary old track
Grimly bedewed with the blood and the sweat,
Poured on the pages of dutiful stages—
This is your tribute, and these are his wages—
Bowing the back.
Though the fools are religious,
Looking to Christ and obeying His call
Dumbly and humbly in service litigious,
Prating of doctrines and doings prodigious—
Baal is all!
Work for him, weep for him, honour him yet
Drudging along the same weary old track
Grimly bedewed with the blood and the sweat,
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This is your tribute, and these are his wages—
Bowing the back.
Baal is first,
And he brooks not affection
Paid unto others for whom we may thirst;
Innocent homage and vain recollection,
Slain by his priests who resent resurrection—
Baal is first!
Live for him, die for him, mother and child,
Gray beard and youth, who despise all control;
What if his fountains be doom'd and defil'd,
When they bring station for bosoms' oblation?
Drink (and be damned) of his earthly salvation—
Bowing the soul.
And he brooks not affection
Paid unto others for whom we may thirst;
Innocent homage and vain recollection,
Slain by his priests who resent resurrection—
Baal is first!
Live for him, die for him, mother and child,
Gray beard and youth, who despise all control;
What if his fountains be doom'd and defil'd,
When they bring station for bosoms' oblation?
Drink (and be damned) of his earthly salvation—
Bowing the soul.
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