AFORETHOUGHT of the fated reign of peace

Fell on the soul of Anti-Christ, I dreamed;

And his brow darkened, and his hate-lit eyes

Aloft glared lurid through the mist of space.

Then vast and shadowy rose the Lord of War,

And shook his right hand at a far White Throne,

Brooding unutterable blasphemies.

Anon he gazed upon our shuddering world,

The while, with voice that fires or freezes souls,

He spake his message to the circling winds

And roused to battle all his myrmidons:

"Up, despot, trembling for a blood-bought crown!

The smouldering flame that threatens thine own house

Hurl at another's; lead thy people on

By glory's flaring torches to their doom.

(Ever the spear

Pierces the spirit of the Prince of Peace!)

"Yoke Victory to thy chariot and ride on,

Trampling the pride of nations, Conqueror!

Let thy maimed warriors writhe alone; for thou

Art scorn of God for His vile images.

(And scorn of mine

For Him who pleads for them at God's right hand.)

"Pause not to reck the ruin thou hast made:

Is not the comet's course foredoomed, and thine?

A deathless name outweighs a million deaths,

And orphans' sighs are mute 'mid the acclaim

Of multitudes.

(What is the grief of Jesus unto thee?)

"Statesman, behold, thy trustful neighbors sleep,

And rust is on their swords, your blades are sharp!

Swift and relentless press thy specious claim;

Not thine the toil or risk, thine the fame to win

With others' blood.

(That human blood that filled the veins of Christ!)

"Flushed with a spotless triumph, patriots,

From brave defence advance to stern revenge,

And urge a war of conquest and bequeath

A heritage of hatred to your sons.

(For freedom's sake

Stabbing His soul who 'came not to destroy'!)

"Wake, silent trump of holy discord! Sword

Of God and Gideon, hew the Gentiles down!

Slay, in your ruth for graceless babes unborn!

Clash, rival crosses, mock the Crucified!

Blaze, lethal fires!

(I will accept the incense that He loathes.)

"Poets sublime who sway the souls of men!

Sing still of arms and human hecatombs,

And wrath and glory and the pride of race;

Let rhymesters mumble of love, pity, peace.

(Sing ye the spear

That glances from its victims to Christ's heart.)

"And thou, enthusiast, whose genius caught

The soul of Revolution and enchained

"Sound trump and drum and fife and clarion,

Sound, to the rhythmic march of warriors,

With priestly benedictions on their pride

And beauty's smiles upon their waving plumes.

(Marching in pomp

To wound the wearied spirit of their Christ!)

"Oh, pygmy pomp and blazon of man's war!

When Michael strove with Satan 'mid the stars,

There were seraphic deeds and agonies

And not this earthly death! Nathless I crave

Unnumbered slain—

The sin of His own slayers tortured Him!

"Hail to thy memory, war of wars, that jarred

Awhile the calm of heaven, when Pride and Hate,

Stung by the still rebuke of Love supreme,

Rose, fought and fell! And to thy memory hail,

Symbolic spear,

That wounded the dead Christ on Calvary!

"Dear is the murderer's dagger; dear the rack

That strains the frame of one who testifies

With his last breath to Christ; dearest the spear

That stabbed Him on the Cross and stabs Him still,

Each thrust a balm

To soothe my sleepless memory in hell!"