Jephthah and Other Mysteries

DEDICATION. xi Master, the night is falling yet again. I hear dim tramplings of unholy forces : I see the assembly of the foully slain : The scent of murder steams: riderless horses Gallop across the earth, and seek the inane: The sun and moon are shaken in their courses : The kings are gathered, and the vultures fall Screaming, to hold their ghastly festival. Master, the sons of Freedom are but few— Yea, but as strong as the storm-smitten sea, Their forehead consecrated with the dew, Their heart made mighty: let my voice decree, My spirit lift their standard: clear and true Bid my trump sound, “ Let all the earth be free!” With thine own strength and melody made strong, And filled with fire and light of thine own song. Only a boy’s wild songs, a boy’s desire, , I bring with reverent hands. The task is ended— The twilight draws on me: the sacred fire Sleeps: I have sheathed my sword, my bow un- bended : , So for one hour I lay aside the lyre, And come, alone, unholpen, unbefriended, As streams get water of the sun-smit sea, Seeking my ocean and my sun in thee. Yea, with thy whirling clouds of fiery light Involve my music, gyring fuller and faster! - Yea, to my sword lend majesty and might To dominate all tumult and disaster,