"Oh, pygmy pomp and blazon of man's war!
When Michael strove with Satan 'mid the stars,
There were seraphic deeds and agonies
And not this earthly death! Nathless I crave
Unnumbered slain—
The sin of His own slayers tortured Him!
"Hail to thy memory, war of wars, that jarred
Awhile the calm of heaven, when Pride and Hate,
Stung by the still rebuke of Love supreme,
Rose, fought and fell! And to thy memory hail,