Jehovah

“The lovely Gods of lib’ertine Greece, those fair and frail humanities “Whose homes o’erlook’d the Middle Sea, where all Earth’s beauty cradled lies,

“Ne’er left its blessèd bounds, nor sought the barb’arous climes of barb’arous gods “Where Odin of the dreary North o’er hog and sickly mead-cup nods:

“And when, at length, ‘Great Pan is dead’ uprose the loud and dol’orous cry “A glamour wither’d on the ground, a splendour faded in the sky.

“Yea, Pan was dead, the Nazar’ene came and seized his seat beneath the sun, “The votary of the Riddle-god, whose one is three and three is one;

“Whose sadd’ening creed of herited Sin spilt o’er the world its cold grey spell; “In every vista showed a grave, and ’neath the grave the glare of Hell;

“Till all Life’s Po’esy sinks to prose; romance to dull Real’ity fades; “Earth’s flush of gladness pales in gloom and God again to man degrades.

“Then the lank Arab foul with sweat, the drainer of the camel’s dug, “Gorged with his leek-green lizard’s meat, clad in his filthy rag and rug,

“Bore his fierce Allah o’er his sands and broke, like lava-burst upon “The realms where reigned pre-Adamite Kings, where rose the Grand Kayânian throne.*

* Kayâni—of the race of Cyrus; old Guebre heroes.

“Who now of ancient Kayomurs, of Zâl or Rustam cares to sing, “Whelmed by the tempest of the tribes that called the Camel-driver King?

“Where are the crown of Kay Khusraw, the sceptre of Anûshirwân, “The holy grail of high Jamshîd, Afrâsiyab’s hall?—Canst tell me, man?

“Gone, gone, where I and thou must go, borne by the winnowing wings of Death, “The Horror brooding over life, and nearer brought with every breath:

“Their fame hath filled the Seven Climes, they rose and reigned, they fought and fell, “As swells and swoons across the wold the tinkling of the Camel’s bell.”