10
THE DEAD CZAR.
Nay, oblivion were as bliss
To that fierce howl which rolls from land to land
Exulting,—"Art thou fallen, Lucifer,
Son of the morning?" or condemning,—"Thus
Perish the wicked!" or blaspheming,—"Here
Lies our Belshazzar, our Sennacherib,
Our Pharaoh,—he whose heart God hardenèd,
So that he would not let the people go."
To that fierce howl which rolls from land to land
Exulting,—"Art thou fallen, Lucifer,
Son of the morning?" or condemning,—"Thus
Perish the wicked!" or blaspheming,—"Here
Lies our Belshazzar, our Sennacherib,
Our Pharaoh,—he whose heart God hardenèd,
So that he would not let the people go."
Self-glorifying sinners! Why, this man
Was but like other men:—you, Levite small,
Who shut your saintly ears, and prate of hell
And heretics, because outside church-doors,
Your church-doors, congregations poor and small
Praise Heaven in their own way;—you, autocrat
Of all the hamlets, who add field to field
And house to house, whose slavish children cower
Before your tyrant footstep;—you, foul-tongued
Fanatic or ambitious egotist,
Who thinks God stoops from His high majesty
To lay His finger on your puny head,
And crown it,—that you henceforth may parade
Your maggotship throughout the wondering world,—
"I am the Lord's anointed!"
Was but like other men:—you, Levite small,
Who shut your saintly ears, and prate of hell
And heretics, because outside church-doors,
Your church-doors, congregations poor and small
Praise Heaven in their own way;—you, autocrat
Of all the hamlets, who add field to field
And house to house, whose slavish children cower
Before your tyrant footstep;—you, foul-tongued
Fanatic or ambitious egotist,
Who thinks God stoops from His high majesty
To lay His finger on your puny head,
And crown it,—that you henceforth may parade
Your maggotship throughout the wondering world,—
"I am the Lord's anointed!"
Fools and blind!
This Czar, this emperor, this disthronèd corpse,
This Czar, this emperor, this disthronèd corpse,
