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 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.