C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
Guy Humphrey McMaster (1829–1887)
The Northern Lights
H
Hell’s furious chiefs forth ride!
The deep doth redden
With flags of armies marching through the night,
As kings shall lead their legions to the fight
At Armageddon.
Captains and chiliarchi;
Thou burning angel of the Pit, Abaddon!
Charioteers from Hades, land of gloom,
Gigantic thrones, and heathen troopers, whom
The thunder of the far-off fight doth madden.
Lo! the waste Gulf’s wild clans,
Gallop across the skies with fiery bridles!
Lo! flaming sultanas, internal czars,
In deep-ranked squadrons gird the glowing cars
Of Lucifer and Ammon, towering idols.
See! see the swift dragoons,
Whirling aloft their sabres to the zenith!
See the tall regiments whose spears incline,
Beyond the circle of that steadfast sign
Which to the streams of ocean never leaneth.
Whose that red-shielded breast?
Chieftain Satanas! Emperor of the Furnace!
What bright centurions, what blazing earls,
In mail of hell’s hot ores and burnished pearls,
Alarm the kingdoms with their gleaming harness?
All forms and gloomy ghosts,
All frowning phantoms from the Gulf’s dim gorges,
Follow the kings in wavering multitude;
While savage giants of the night’s old brood
In pagan mirth toss high their crackling torches.
Ruling earth’s southern zones,
Mark ye the wrathful archers of Gehenna;
How gleam, affrighted lords of Europe’s crowns,
Their blood-red arrows o’er your bastioned towns,
Moscow, and purple Rome, and cannon-girt Vienna?
Go bid your prophets watch the troubled skies!
“Why through the vault cleave those infernal glances?
Why, ye pale wizards, do those portents rise,
Rockets and fiery shafts and lurid lances?”
Numberless armies roll,
Columns all plumed and cohorts of artillery;
Still girdled nobles cross the snowy fields
In flashing chariots, and their crimson shields
Kindle afar thy icy peaks, Cordillera!
Prince of the powers of air,
Bear your broad banners through the constellations!
Wave, all ye Stygian hordes,
Through the black sky your swords;
Startle with warlike signs the watching nations.
March, ye mailed multitudes, across the deep;
Far shine the battlements on Heaven’s steep.
Dare ye again, fierce thrones and scarlet powers,
Assail with hell’s wild host those crystal towers?
Tempt ye again the angels’ shining blades,
Ithuriel’s spear, and Michael’s circling truncheon,—
The seraph-cavalier, whose winged brigades
Drove you in dreadful rout down to the night’s vast dungeon?