TO POPE PIUS X
O ill-starredPope! From thee all power was reftTo quell the slaughter of earth’s men.Alone thou grieved’st their needless sufferings,And racking qualms beyond all mortal ken.Pontiff Supreme! Blest be thy reverent nameWho wroughtst great tasks most holily,But couldst not make men think the thoughts of peaceWhen they in blood were steeped so mightily.In ancient days thy predecessors swayedThe power earth’s horrid wars to quell,But ah, alas! their might is but remembrance dim,And now brute arms their triumphs tell.O mighty monarchs! Yours, yours is the blameThat we have holy Pius lost,For ye have stirred the wars that racked his frame,And his great life is now th’atoning cost.
O ill-starredPope! From thee all power was reftTo quell the slaughter of earth’s men.Alone thou grieved’st their needless sufferings,And racking qualms beyond all mortal ken.Pontiff Supreme! Blest be thy reverent nameWho wroughtst great tasks most holily,But couldst not make men think the thoughts of peaceWhen they in blood were steeped so mightily.In ancient days thy predecessors swayedThe power earth’s horrid wars to quell,But ah, alas! their might is but remembrance dim,And now brute arms their triumphs tell.O mighty monarchs! Yours, yours is the blameThat we have holy Pius lost,For ye have stirred the wars that racked his frame,And his great life is now th’atoning cost.
O ill-starredPope! From thee all power was reftTo quell the slaughter of earth’s men.Alone thou grieved’st their needless sufferings,And racking qualms beyond all mortal ken.
O ill-starredPope! From thee all power was reft
To quell the slaughter of earth’s men.
Alone thou grieved’st their needless sufferings,
And racking qualms beyond all mortal ken.
Pontiff Supreme! Blest be thy reverent nameWho wroughtst great tasks most holily,But couldst not make men think the thoughts of peaceWhen they in blood were steeped so mightily.
Pontiff Supreme! Blest be thy reverent name
Who wroughtst great tasks most holily,
But couldst not make men think the thoughts of peace
When they in blood were steeped so mightily.
In ancient days thy predecessors swayedThe power earth’s horrid wars to quell,But ah, alas! their might is but remembrance dim,And now brute arms their triumphs tell.
In ancient days thy predecessors swayed
The power earth’s horrid wars to quell,
But ah, alas! their might is but remembrance dim,
And now brute arms their triumphs tell.
O mighty monarchs! Yours, yours is the blameThat we have holy Pius lost,For ye have stirred the wars that racked his frame,And his great life is now th’atoning cost.
O mighty monarchs! Yours, yours is the blame
That we have holy Pius lost,
For ye have stirred the wars that racked his frame,
And his great life is now th’atoning cost.