80 
THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY. 
 
With the smoke that madness finds  
The sole cloak of anarchy. 
Misty vapours demon-wrought 
Fill the cold clear dome of thought. 
 
ALEXANDER 
 
Mother, I have brought him myrrh.  
Sorrow black and sinister  
Shall his name bring to the race.  
Wheresoever on the earth  
Shall be heard his hissing name  
Shall be madness and disgrace,  
Falsehood, barrenness, and shame  
For the folk of praise and worth. 
All the pure, the fair, the young  
Shall taste curses on his tongue ;  
But the old, the chill, the base,  
Shall find beauty in his face. 
Also, of Astarte’s fruit  
We have brought him orchis root.  
Cinquefoil, and musk, and fins  
Of the turtle and the shark  
Scraped with damiana-bark,  
Every grain a score of sins !