216
CARMEN SAECULARE
The temple of their God is broken down ;
Yea, Mammon’s shrine is cleansed! The
house of her
That ‘cowed the world with her malignant
frown,
And drove the Celt to exile and despair,
Is battered now—God’s fire destroys the
town ;
London admits God’s air.
They scorned the God that made them; yea,
they said :
‘‘Lords of this globe, the Saxon race,
are we.
‘* Europe before us lies, as men lied .;
“ Britannia—ho! Britannia rules the sea!”
This night thy kingdom shall be finished,
Thy soul required of thee.
Hail! France !
rebelled
Against the alien, and the golden yoke ;!
Because thy justice lives and reigns, un-
quelled,
Unbribed ;? because thy head above the
smoke
Soars, eagle! Tribulation hath not felled
Thy freedom’s ancient oak !
Because thy freedom hath
Therefore, this message of the Gods to
thee ! ‘
What banner floats above thy bastions?
The oriflamme, the golden fleur-de-lys?
The eagle, or the tricolour? Thy sons
Choose their own flag, contented to be
free,
With freemen’s orisons.
The mist is gathering on the seer’s sight—
I cannot see the future of thy state.
Or, am I dazzled by resounding light?
I know this thing—thy future shall be
great !
Come war, come revolution! In their spite
Thou mayst compel thy Fate.
1 The Jews.
2 The verdict of Rennes.
O German Empire! Let thy sons beware,
Not crowding sordid towns for lust of
gold,
Not all forgetful of the herdsman’s care,
Not arming all men in an iron mould.
Peaceful be thou: with watching and with
prayer.
But be not overbold.
Fall, Austria! In the very day and hour
That reverend head that holds thee in its
awe
Shall sink in peace, I see thy rotten power
Break as the crumbling ice-floe in the
thaw.
Destruction shatters thy blood-builded tower.
Death has thee in his maw.
Stand, Russia!
peace,
Beneath the constant rule, the changing
Czar.
Thy many, thine inhospitable seas
Shall ring thee round, a zodiac to thy
star,
And Frost, the rampart of thine iron ease,
Laugh at the shock of war.
Let thy freedom grow in
Turn, Italy! The Voice is unto Thee!
Return, poor wounded maiden, to thy
home !
Thou hast well tried a spurious liberty :
Thou art made captive; let thy fancy
roam
To the great Mother, deeper than the sea,
And fairer than the foam.
O Gateway of the admirable East!
Hold fast thy Faith! Let no man take
thy Crown !
Birds of Evil,
feast,
(Fools cried) but herald thy renewed re-
nown.
Mad Christians see in thee the Second
Beast,
But shall not shake thee down.
The that were keen to