LYRICAL AND DRAMATIC.
Shall poisonous wind and avalanche combine
To wreak swift justice, human and divine?
Priests thrive on poison. Carrion
Their eager teeth
Tear, till the sacramental sun
Its sword unsheath,
And bid their horrid carnival be done,
And smite beneath
In their cold gasping valleys, and bid light
Break the battalions of the angry night.
That sword that smote from Heaven was so keen,
Its silver blade
No angel’s sight, no fairy’s eye hath seen,
No tender maid
With subtle insight may behold its sheen
With light inlaid ;
But God, who forged it, breathed upon its point,
And His pure unction did the hilt anoint.
Within the poet’s hand he laid the sword :
With reverent ear
The poet listened to His word
Cleansed through of fear.
The brightness of the glory of the Lord
Grew adamant, a spear!
And when he took the falchion in his hand
Lo! kings and princes bowed to his command.
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