‘A STRONGER THAN HE SHALL COME UPON HIM...’
And then he was seized by one who was stronger than he,
Seized and tamed and bound and forced to obey;
From the swinging choice of evil or good he was free;
Good was no longer; evil had vanished away
He left to another the gain or loss of the day.
Was he driven or drawn? What matter? He was content.
He yielded him, body and soul, to the whirl of War
As one yields to the high sea-wind, and is buffered, bent
To his will, when, shouting, he stamps in over the shore
Triumphant, driving all things like dust before.
Can aught but a rock stand firm, or question his might
Who tosses the leaves and clouds from a hand so strong?
The trees and grasses bow in awe of his might,
And men in the mountains, hearing his giant-song,
Yield, and are hurried—whirled—hounded along.
Thus he yielded to War, who was stronger than he—
No time to think—no time to ponder and weigh—
He was swept like a straw on the wind—and yet he knew himself free
Was it freedom or bondage, this? In truth, it were hard to say;
But, slave or king, he bowed his head to obey.