Nietzsche
Jupiter's gutter-snipe! A shrill-tongued thing
Running beside the blood-stain'd chariot wheels,
Crying ‘Hosannah to the pitiless King,
The ravening Strength that neither spares nor feels!’
A slave that glorified the yoke and goad,
Cast mud into the well of human tears,
Gibed at the Weak who perish on the road,
Slain by the Law which neither heeds nor hears!
‘All hail to the Eternal Might and Right,
By which all life is sifted, slain, and shed!
Lord, make me hard like thee that day and night
I may approve thy ways, however dread!’
So cried he, while. Indifferent to his cries,
Nature's triumphal Car went grinding past,—
And lo, the dust was blown into his eyes,
And crush'd 'mid blood and mud, he rank at last.
Poor gutter-snipe! Answer'd with his own prayer,
Back to primeval darkness he has gone;—
Only one living soul can help him there,
The gentle human god he spot upon!
Running beside the blood-stain'd chariot wheels,
Crying ‘Hosannah to the pitiless King,
The ravening Strength that neither spares nor feels!’
A slave that glorified the yoke and goad,
Cast mud into the well of human tears,
Gibed at the Weak who perish on the road,
Slain by the Law which neither heeds nor hears!
‘All hail to the Eternal Might and Right,
By which all life is sifted, slain, and shed!
Lord, make me hard like thee that day and night
I may approve thy ways, however dread!’
So cried he, while. Indifferent to his cries,
Nature's triumphal Car went grinding past,—
And lo, the dust was blown into his eyes,
And crush'd 'mid blood and mud, he rank at last.
Poor gutter-snipe! Answer'd with his own prayer,
Back to primeval darkness he has gone;—
Only one living soul can help him there,
The gentle human god he spot upon!
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