THE COMMONWEAL
115
No; the lust of life, the thirst for work and days with work to do in,
Drove and drives him down the road of splendid shame;
All is well, if o'er the monument recording England's ruin
Time shall read, inscribed in triumph, Gladstone's name.
Thieves and murderers, hands yet red with blood and tongues yet black with lies,
Clap and clamour—"Parnell spurs his Gladstone well!"
Truth, unscared and undeluded by their praise or blame, replies—
"Is the goal of fraud and bloodshed heaven or hell?"
Old men eloquent, who truckle to the traitors of the time,
Love not office—power is no desire of theirs:
What if yesterday their hearts recoiled from blood and fraud and crime?
Conscience erred—an error which to-day repairs.
