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“Vicisti Galilaee”
AY, down the years behold he rides, | |
| The lowly Christ, upon an ass; | |
| But conquering? Ten shall heed the call, | |
| A thousand idly watch him pass: | |
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| They watch him pass, or lightly hold | 5 |
| In mock lip-loyalty his name: | |
| A thousand—were they his to lead! | |
| But meek, without a sword, he came. | |
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| A myriad horsemen swept the field | |
| With Attila, the whirlwind Hun; | 10 |
| A myriad cannon spake for him, | |
| The silent, dread Napoleon. | |
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| For these had ready spoil to give, | |
| Had reeking spoil for savage hands; | |
| Slaves, and fair wives, and pillage rare: | 15 |
| The wealth of cities: teeming lands. | |
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| And if the world, once drunk with blood, | |
| Sated, has turned from arms to peace, | |
| Man hath not lost his ancient lusts; | |
| The weapons change; war doth not cease. | 20 |
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| The mother in the stifling den, | |
| The brain-dulled child beside the loom, | |
| The hordes that swarm and toil and starve— | |
| We laugh, and tread them to their doom. | |
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| They shriek, and cry their prayers to Christ; | 25 |
| And lift wan faces, hands that bleed: | |
| In vain they pray, for what is Christ? | |
| A leader—without men to lead. | |
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| Ah, piteous Christ afar he rides! | |
| We see him, but the face is dim; | 30 |
| We that would leap at crash of drums | |
| Are slow to rise and follow him. | |
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