Burst high his golden dome with muffled pealings,
Consume the master’s stately home with fire,
With raining gravel of his marble ceilings
Crush low the tyrant and his hosts of hire!
May foe with wrathful elements too unite,
And round with steel and fire-brand rage and rend,
Let be who will, success attend still his fight:
Our lord’s assassin then will be our friend!
XVIII
Our master too designed for us our god,