THE SPIRIT OF WAR
Ho! ho! I come in fury as the stormAnd seek earth’s nations east and west.I breathe the breath of fire within them all,And lure to arms the proud’st and best.I swoop down on their gilded palaces,And shake the monarchs of the world;I rouse them from their cots of peace and easeAnd set their boasting flags unfurled.Upon the doors of happy homes I knock,And men of valor do I callTo take the stand against their fellowmen,To spill their blood and spill it all.I wend my flight to peaceful, quiet fieldsWhere tillers ever tireless toil;I bid them leave their plows and homes behind,And steel themselves with arms of spoil.Then nursing babes at mothers’ breasts I touch,For loud their fathers do I call;I reck not of their mothers’ tear-stained eyesWhen those do in the battle fall.I sweep o’er peaceful cities great and strong,Whose towers outtop the blue-ribbed sky;I give the word to grind out shot and shellUntil they lowly, humble lie.The mighty nations to my wings I call,—A hundred million men of warTo struggle helpless ’gainst the sword of death,—Beneath my spell they fallen are.O’er Asia’s strand I spread mine eaglet wings,O’er Austria, England, France and Spain;Then do I touch Japan and Mexico,Then back to Europe’s soil again.My maw is ever empty for their blood,“On! on!” I cry for newer prey;My master Mars doth urge me take the fieldMyself to slaughter and to slay.Away with peace and arbitration’s hand,’Neath whose pale spell I envious quake:They only dare to cross my boist’rous path;Them can I never bend nor break.But on I go, and when my wreak is o’erAnd Mars requites me for my pain,To war’s dead corps and sepulchres I cry:“Great God, what fools have mortals been!”
Ho! ho! I come in fury as the stormAnd seek earth’s nations east and west.I breathe the breath of fire within them all,And lure to arms the proud’st and best.I swoop down on their gilded palaces,And shake the monarchs of the world;I rouse them from their cots of peace and easeAnd set their boasting flags unfurled.Upon the doors of happy homes I knock,And men of valor do I callTo take the stand against their fellowmen,To spill their blood and spill it all.I wend my flight to peaceful, quiet fieldsWhere tillers ever tireless toil;I bid them leave their plows and homes behind,And steel themselves with arms of spoil.Then nursing babes at mothers’ breasts I touch,For loud their fathers do I call;I reck not of their mothers’ tear-stained eyesWhen those do in the battle fall.I sweep o’er peaceful cities great and strong,Whose towers outtop the blue-ribbed sky;I give the word to grind out shot and shellUntil they lowly, humble lie.The mighty nations to my wings I call,—A hundred million men of warTo struggle helpless ’gainst the sword of death,—Beneath my spell they fallen are.O’er Asia’s strand I spread mine eaglet wings,O’er Austria, England, France and Spain;Then do I touch Japan and Mexico,Then back to Europe’s soil again.My maw is ever empty for their blood,“On! on!” I cry for newer prey;My master Mars doth urge me take the fieldMyself to slaughter and to slay.Away with peace and arbitration’s hand,’Neath whose pale spell I envious quake:They only dare to cross my boist’rous path;Them can I never bend nor break.But on I go, and when my wreak is o’erAnd Mars requites me for my pain,To war’s dead corps and sepulchres I cry:“Great God, what fools have mortals been!”
Ho! ho! I come in fury as the stormAnd seek earth’s nations east and west.I breathe the breath of fire within them all,And lure to arms the proud’st and best.
Ho! ho! I come in fury as the storm
And seek earth’s nations east and west.
I breathe the breath of fire within them all,
And lure to arms the proud’st and best.
I swoop down on their gilded palaces,And shake the monarchs of the world;I rouse them from their cots of peace and easeAnd set their boasting flags unfurled.
I swoop down on their gilded palaces,
And shake the monarchs of the world;
I rouse them from their cots of peace and ease
And set their boasting flags unfurled.
Upon the doors of happy homes I knock,And men of valor do I callTo take the stand against their fellowmen,To spill their blood and spill it all.
Upon the doors of happy homes I knock,
And men of valor do I call
To take the stand against their fellowmen,
To spill their blood and spill it all.
I wend my flight to peaceful, quiet fieldsWhere tillers ever tireless toil;I bid them leave their plows and homes behind,And steel themselves with arms of spoil.
I wend my flight to peaceful, quiet fields
Where tillers ever tireless toil;
I bid them leave their plows and homes behind,
And steel themselves with arms of spoil.
Then nursing babes at mothers’ breasts I touch,For loud their fathers do I call;I reck not of their mothers’ tear-stained eyesWhen those do in the battle fall.
Then nursing babes at mothers’ breasts I touch,
For loud their fathers do I call;
I reck not of their mothers’ tear-stained eyes
When those do in the battle fall.
I sweep o’er peaceful cities great and strong,Whose towers outtop the blue-ribbed sky;I give the word to grind out shot and shellUntil they lowly, humble lie.
I sweep o’er peaceful cities great and strong,
Whose towers outtop the blue-ribbed sky;
I give the word to grind out shot and shell
Until they lowly, humble lie.
The mighty nations to my wings I call,—A hundred million men of warTo struggle helpless ’gainst the sword of death,—Beneath my spell they fallen are.
The mighty nations to my wings I call,—
A hundred million men of war
To struggle helpless ’gainst the sword of death,—
Beneath my spell they fallen are.
O’er Asia’s strand I spread mine eaglet wings,O’er Austria, England, France and Spain;Then do I touch Japan and Mexico,Then back to Europe’s soil again.
O’er Asia’s strand I spread mine eaglet wings,
O’er Austria, England, France and Spain;
Then do I touch Japan and Mexico,
Then back to Europe’s soil again.
My maw is ever empty for their blood,“On! on!” I cry for newer prey;My master Mars doth urge me take the fieldMyself to slaughter and to slay.
My maw is ever empty for their blood,
“On! on!” I cry for newer prey;
My master Mars doth urge me take the field
Myself to slaughter and to slay.
Away with peace and arbitration’s hand,’Neath whose pale spell I envious quake:They only dare to cross my boist’rous path;Them can I never bend nor break.
Away with peace and arbitration’s hand,
’Neath whose pale spell I envious quake:
They only dare to cross my boist’rous path;
Them can I never bend nor break.
But on I go, and when my wreak is o’erAnd Mars requites me for my pain,To war’s dead corps and sepulchres I cry:“Great God, what fools have mortals been!”
But on I go, and when my wreak is o’er
And Mars requites me for my pain,
To war’s dead corps and sepulchres I cry:
“Great God, what fools have mortals been!”