Jephthah and Other Mysteries

N the blind hour of madness, in its might, When the red star of tyranny was highest; When baleful watchfires scared the witless night, And kings mocked Freedom, as she wept: “Thou diest !” When priestcraft snarled at Thought: “I crush thee quite |” Then rose the splendid song of thee, “ Thou liest !” Out of the darkness, in the death of hope, Thy white star flamed in Europe’s horoscope. The coffin-nails were driven home: the curse Of mockery’s blessing flung the dust upon her : The horses of Destruction dragged the hearse Over besmirchéd roads of Truth and Honour: The obscene God spat on the universe: The sods of Destiny were spattered on her :— Then rose thy spirit through the shaken skies : “Child of the Dawn, I say to thee, arise!” Through the ancestral shame and feudal gloom, Through medizval blackness rung thy pzean : Let there be light !—the desecrated tomb Gaped as thy fury smote the Galilean.