Classic Poem

Piteously the stars of Heaven
Fix'd their million eyes upon him, —
While his dark form droop'd and slowly
Darken'd, like a blackening brand;

Brightness of the Angel faded
Into darkness sad and baleful, —
Old at last he seem'd and human,
Bending 'neath the load of years;

In his voice I heard no longer
Music as of stars vibrating,
Sound of solemn psalms, or pipings
Of the merry flocks of Pan:

Nay, the voice that spake unto me
Broken seem'd, like chimes discordant
Ringing over lonely uplands
In the silence of the night.

" Thus," he said, " the light of Hellas
Died away in desolation,
Setting where it first had risen.
'Mong the eastern pyramids!

" O'er the land of seers and poets
Blew the breath of God's dark Angel,
Broken lay the marble statues
Of my tutelary gods!

" Meantime, like another Titan,
Rome had risen! — Strong and mighty,
From the mountains swarm'd the savage
Tribes of Romulus the shepherd.

" 'Mong them walk'd my servant-angels
Teaching them the lore of Nature, —
Strong they grew and ever stronger
Till they conquered Earth and Sea.

" Earth and Sea I gave unto them,
Saying, " Surely ye are strongest!
Since no tyrants dwell among you,
Since ye know not fraud or fear! "

" Tutelary gods I gave them,
Harmless gods whom they might worship,
Since I knew that in His creatures
God had sown the lust of godhead;

" Strong they grew and ever stronger,
Building thus their great Republic, —
Fair and great it rose, and o'er it
All the winds of plenty blew.

" Then, to mar my work for ever,
God the Eternal Tyrant fashion'd
Lesser tyrants in His image, —
So His Caesars rose, and reigned!

" God's they were, not mine, the Devil's!
Nay, by Hades, I abjure them!
Freedom comes of Light and Knowledge,
Tyranny is born of God!

" Ever, since the world's beginning,
I, the gentle Prince of Pity,
Taught one Trinity to mortals —
Wisdom, Love, and Self-control —

" " Shed no blood, since God doth shed it!
Love each other, help each other,
Rise erect against all tyrants, "
Is my gospel evermore.

" " Only for a little season
Shalt thou draw the breath of Being —
Try to make that little season
Bright and glad, in spite of God! "

" Turn the records of the Roman!
Read again the blood-stain'd pages!
See the spectres of the Caesars
Passing on to endless night!

" Nay, but even here I triumph'd!
From the cesspool and the palace
Rose the cry of slaves and tyrants
Saying " Death alone is God! "

" So the crown of God descended
On the brows of Death, His angel!
So the Tyrant of Creation
Found no worshippers at last!

" Then, as in the eternal City
I was wandering weary-hearted,
Outcast from the hideous revels
Where the crowned Spectre reign'd,

" Sick of God and God's creation,
I, the Devil, heard the crying
Of a voice amid the Desert, —
Saying, " Rejoice, the Christ is born! "

" Eastward flew I, and I found Him,
Best and worst of the Messiahs,
Walking meekly, meditating,
By the Lake of Galilee!"