VIII.
Homunculus; or, the Song of Deicides.
1.
Now all the mystic Lamps that shed
Light on the living world are fled;
Now the swart digger rinses gold,
Under a starless heaven and cold;
Now every God, save one, is dead,
Now that last God is almost sped;
Cold falls the dew, chill rise the tides,
To this still Song of Deicides.
2.
Homunculus! Homunculus!
Not ever shalt thou conquer us!
Zeus, Astaroth, Brahm, and Menú,
With all the gods, white, black, and blue,
Are fallen, and while I murmur thus,
Strong, and more strong, Homunculus
Upon a Teuton Jackass rides,
Singing the Song of Deicides.
3.
It seems but yesterday the dim
And solitary germ of him
Glimmer'd most strangely on my sense,
While, with my microscope intense,
I search'd a Beast's brain-cavern dark:—
A germ—a gleam—a cell—a spark—
Grown to Homunculus, who rides
To my sad Song of Deicides.
4.
Oh had I then so far foreseen,
This day of doom had never been,
For with a drop of fire from Hell
I would have killed the feeble Cell.
Too late! too late! for slow and strange
He has passed the darker sphere of change,
Lo! he emerges—shouts—derides,
Singing the Song of Deicides!
5.
Black is his raiment, top to toe,
His flesh is white and warm below,
All through his silent veins flow flee
Hunger, and Thirst, and Venery;
But in his eye a still small flame,
Like the first Cell from which he came,
Burns round and luminous,—as he rides
To my still Song of Deicides!
6.
With Obic Circle he began,
Swift through the Phallic rites he ran,
He watch'd until his head went round
The Memphian Sphinx's stare profound;
All these by turn he overcast,
And suck'd the Orphic Egg at last;
Now laughing low he westward strides,
Singing the Song of Deicides!
7.
He drives the Gods o' the north to death—
The Sanctus Spiritus is breath—
He plucks down Thammuz from his joy,
And kneads him to a huswife's toy;
He stares to shame the Afric spheres;
He strikes—he overturns—he sneers—
Oven the fallen Titans strides,
And squeaks the Song of Deicides!
8.
Homunculus! Homunculus
Wretched, degenerate, impious!
He will not stay, he will not speak—
Another blow! another shriek!
Lo! where he hacketh suddenly
At the red Cross of Calvary!
All darkens—faintly moan the tides—
Sing low the Song of Deicides!
9.
Gigantic, in a dark mist, see!
Loometh the Cross of Calvary;
With rayless eyes the Skeleton
Quivers through all its bones thereon.
Deep grows the mist, faint falls the wind,
The bloodshot sun setteth behind ...
A crash! a fall—The Cross he strides,
Singing the Song of Deicides!
10.
Now he hath conquered godhead thus,
Whither will turn Homunculus?
I am the only God let be—
All but my fiends believe in me;
(Though all the Angels deem me prince,
My kith and kin I can't convince.)
Christ help me now! Hither he rides,
Singing my song of Deicides!
11.
Silent I wait—(how stand the odds?)
I am the Serpent of the Gods,—
Wait!—draw the forkëd tongue in slow,
Hoard up my venom for the blow.
Crouch in my cave—of all the host
I know he feareth me the most—
Then strike and crush that thing accurst
I should have stifled at the first! ...
All Earth awaits! Hither he rides!
Cold fall the dews, chill rise the tides,
To this still Song of Deicides!
