The World’s Tragedy

80 THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY. With the smoke that madness finds The sole cloak of anarchy. Misty vapours demon-wrought Fill the cold clear dome of thought. ALEXANDER Mother, I have brought him myrrh. Sorrow black and sinister Shall his name bring to the race. Wheresoever on the earth Shall be heard his hissing name Shall be madness and disgrace, Falsehood, barrenness, and shame For the folk of praise and worth. All the pure, the fair, the young Shall taste curses on his tongue ; But the old, the chill, the base, Shall find beauty in his face. Also, of Astarte’s fruit We have brought him orchis root. Cinquefoil, and musk, and fins Of the turtle and the shark Scraped with damiana-bark, Every grain a score of sins !