Song of the wave / George Cabot Lodge [electronic text]

XX
TO THE CHILDREN OF THE MUSE

"Nel secol tetro e in questo aer nefando."

— L.

NONE shall put forth a hand and twist the brass That galls the neck of Liberty, none dare Avert the iron stigma of despair And show our eyes how good the battle was.Yet now for you who,'mid the blowing grass That hides the grave of honour, sit and stare In the great muteness of forgotten prayer—The vengeance of the Lord has come to pass! They fester in their cities who have scarred The face of earth until her skeleton Is naked, and her breasts are dry and hard;Say, shall ye tear the world's dishevelled robe And lay her ulcers open to the sun, Or murmur soft, "Thy will be done!" like Job?