Carmen Saeculare

My work, my Father’s work for men, the rising sun ? Who calls me coward ? Let them wait awhile ! Shall I Bow down a loyal head to fate : despair and die ? I hear the sea roll strong and pure that bore me far From Meallfavournie’s scalp, gray moor and lonely scaur ; I hear the waves together mutter in counsel deep ; I hear the thunder the winds utter in broken sleep ; I hear the voices of four rivers crying aloud ; Four Angels trumpet, and earth shivers : the heavens shroud Their faces in blank terror for the sound of them : The mountains are disturbed and roar : the azure hem That laps all lands is broken, lashed in fiery foam, And all God’s thunderbolts are crashed—against my home. Written in heaven, written on earth, written in the deep, Written by God’s own finger-birth ; the stars may weep, The sun rejoice, that see at last His vengeance strike ; The fury of destruction’s blast ; the fiery spike As of an arrow of adamant, comet or meteor : “ The dog returneth to his vomit : the ancient whore That sitteth upon many waters, even she That called together all her daughters upon the sea ; That clad herself in crimson silk and robes of black And gave men blood instead of milk ; and made a track Of lives and gold and dust and death on land and sea, She is fallen, is fallen ! Her breath I take to me. That which I gave I take, and that she thought to build, I, even I, will break it flat : my curse fulfilled. 6