CHAPTER XXVI
AMICUS DEI
I
Through the April meadows ambling
Where the new born lambs are gamb'ling
Cometh May and vanisheth;—
Cometh lovely June a-rambling;—
July follows out of breath
Scattering the playful swallows;
On her heels a Shepherd follows,
All dolled up like Old Man Death.
II
While he capers, pipes, and prances,
Meadows wither where he dances;
Suddenly the sunshine ends!
Shrinking from his grinning glances,
Every blossom wilts and bends.
Spectral forests rise and tower,
Bursting into crimson flower,
And an iron rain descends.
III
Shepherd, Shepherd, lithely whirling,
To your screaming pipes a-skirling,
Tell me why you blithely dance?
But the shrilling tempest, hurling
Shrivelled blossoms of Romance,
Answered: "Help! For Christ is dying!"
And I heard the pipes replying:
"Let the Friend of God advance!"
IV
Prince of the Vanguard, armed from head to heel,
And reassuring God amid your bayonets
Where the Imperial standard frets
And the sun sets
Across five million marching acolytes in steel,
Red looms a ruined world against the West,
Red lie its dead beneath your sombre crest,
And redly drips your sword
And the lances of your horde
Where all things died, the loveliest and best.
In this dead land there stirs no pulse, no breath,
For, where you ride, on your right hand rides Death.