The Mother’s Tragedy

58 THE FATAL FORCE Against all men, dominions, shapes, and powers, Seen and unseen, to justice and to truth, Sought out by desolate ways of hateful deeds, And so set free myself from my own fate, Whom I will smite to end the coil of things Here, to begin—what life? For Life I know Stands like a living sentinel behind The rugged barrier of death, the gates Where the rude valley narrows, and man hears The steep and terrible cataract of time Break, and lose shape and substance in the foam , And spray of an eternity of air! My death, and not my life, may crown me king! So let me not be buried in that state Due to the hateful rank that I abjure By this proud act, but let my monument Say to succeeding peoples and dim tribes Unthought of: “This was born a living man Bound, and he cut the chain of circumstance, And spat on Fate.” And all the priests shall say And all the people: “ Verily and Amen.” [Stabs himself. CHORUS. Spirit of the Gods! White noon Of tremendous flashing fire, Spirit of the moon! Trembling essence of desire Triple-tongued, thy flame is kindled