Then may he weary of his burning wine,
Then lay aside at last his crimson mail,
And rest for ever in the arms divine
Of Aphrodite passionate and pale—
But hark! He comes! Hail, Ares! Lord of thunder, Hail!"
"He rides above the ocean and the snow,
His trail is on the curtain of the skies:
Brighter than dawn, his young eternal eyes
Shine in the eyes of Valour far below:
Now Mammon hides beneath his trembling halls,
While Honour marches singing into war;
On strange forgotten hearts a radiance falls,
As ever nearer, burning from afar,
The sword of Ares gleams above the morning star."
"The other gods are weaker; thou alone
Dost break the King and bend the Emperor's Knee:
Lower than unto Christ they bow to thee,
Lord of the Slave, and Guardian of the Free,
Steel-hearted Ares, shaker of the Throne;
18
