114
BIRTHDAY ODE.
And louder ever and louder and yet more loud ant. 7
Till night be shamed of morn
Rings the Black Huntsman's horn
Through darkening deeps beneath the covering cloud, 260
Till all the wild beasts of the darkness hear;
Till the Czar quake, till Austria cower for fear,
Till the king breathe not, till the priest wax pale,
Till spies and slayers on seats of judgment quail,
Till mitre and cowl bow down
And crumble as a crown,
Till Cæsar driven to lair and hounded Pope
Reel breathless and drop heartless out of hope,
And one the uncleanest kinless beast of all
Lower than his fortune fall; 270
The wolfish waif of casual empire, born
To turn all hate and horror cold with scorn.
