Again shall stir rapt throngs to fratricide:
'To arms! to arms!'
(Christ mocks me with His pity from His throne!)
"Sound trump and drum and fife and clarion,
Sound, to the rhythmic march of warriors,
With priestly benedictions on their pride
And beauty's smiles upon their waving plumes.
(Marching in pomp
To wound the wearied spirit of their Christ!)