LITANY OF NATIONS

Aeons of old were wandering down the seas, When Homer sang at Chios—and the sweet Tranquillity of marching silences Was broken at my feet. Great dawns have shown the way When we have wandered. God, in the battle sway, What have we squandered?

Avid and Roman born in soul and sense, Master of all else but myself was I, When, bound by silken cords of indolence, I saw the world go by.

Ravaging, roystering and repenting—save In story and the regions of romance, Rises the moon on whom more mad and brave, Or beautiful than France?

Once German arms and German armies hurled Thunders on Rome. Than mine no readier hand Would wake the violin and woo the world, Were it a fairyland.

Mine is a house divided but upheld By the sheer force of many hemming powers. Ages, like forests, have been hewn and felled To build my crumbling towers.

Gray winters flourish and old empires fail; And still the starry watchmen sally forth As wardens, with me, of the frozen grail And ramparts of the north.

Stabbing the skies for stars and air in which To bask awhile and breathe—shall we remain Simply the little brothers of the rich? God! have we fought in vain?

Strong was my soul in war and wise in peace. On whom else was the Moslem vanguard hurled? O but for me had any Genoese Sailed and brought back a world?

High noons and sunsets pass while I repeat The world-old secret of the endless quest; And with the nations ageing at my feet, I overlook the west.

Flecking the seas where war and tempest brew, And biding till the gonfalons are furled, My British sails have dared and driven through Thunders that shook the world.

Westward the tide of empire ebbs and flows: And westward where the new-world torches rise And rout the night, the Great Day dawning glows And kindles in my eyes.

Amid the warring peoples I that slept And dreamt of wide dominion—confident, Ambitious, urging, conquering—have stept Out from the orient.

Glory and power for ages had been mine, Until upon me fell a sudden night, Such as makes beacon-star republics shine: And my eyes saw the light.

In infidel debate on whence and why, They hiss my God, and know not whether hale And wise, or worn and withering am I, Behind the crimson veil. Great dawns have shown the way When we have wandered. God, in the battle sway, What have we squandered?