Gods of War

1914

Fate wafts us from the pygmies' shore:

We swim beneath the epic skies:

A Rome and Carthage war once more,

And wider empires are the prize;

Where the beaked galleys clashed; lo, these

Our iron dragons of the seas!

High o'er the cloudy battle sweep

The winged chariots in their flight:

The steely creatures of the deep

'Cleave the dark waters' ancient night:

Below, above, in wave, in air,

New worlds for conquest everywhere.

More terrible than spear or sword

Those stars that burst with fiery breath:

More loud the battle cries are poured

Along a hundred leagues of death.

So do they fight. How have ye warred,

Defeated Armies of the Lord?

This is the Dark Immortal's hour,

His victory, whoever fail;

His prophets have not lost their power:

Caesar and Attila prevail.

These are your legions still, proud ghosts,

These myriad embattled hosts.

How wanes Thine empire, Prince of Peace!

With the fleet circling of the suns

The ancient gods their power increase;

Lo, how Thine own anointed ones

Make holy all Thy soul abhorred,

The hate on which Thy love had warred.

Who dreamed a dream mid outcasts born

Could overbrow the pride of kings?

They pour on Christ the ancient scorn.

His Dove its gold and silver wings

Has spread. Perhaps it nests in flame

In outcasts who abjure His name.

Choose ye your rightful gods, nor pay

Lip reverence that the heart denies.

O Nations, is not Zeus to-day,

The thunderer from the epic skies,

More than the Prince of Peace? Is Thor

Not nobler for a world at war?

They fit the dreams of power we hold,

Those gods whose names are with us still,

Men in their image made of old

The high companions of their will.

Who build in air an empire's pride—

Would they pray to the Crucified?

O outcast Christ, it was too soon

For flags of battle to be furled

While life was yet at the hot noon.

Come in the twilight of the world:

Its kings may greet Thee without scorn

And crown Thee then without a thorn.