Let the Priests of the Raven of Dawn, no longer in deadly black, with hoarse note curse the Sons of Joy. Nor his accepted brethren whom, tyrant, he calls free, lay the bound or build the roof. Nor pale religious lechery call that virginity that wishes, but acts not!
20. Spurning the clouds written with curses, stamps the stony law to dust, loosing the eternal horses from the dens of night, crying: “Empire is no more! and now the lion and wolf shall cease.”
18. With thunder and fire, leading his starry hosts through the waste wilderness, he promulgates his ten commandments, glancing his beamy eyelids over the deep in dark dismay.
15. Down rush’d, beating his wings in vain, the jealous king, his grey-brow’d councillors, thunderous warriors, curl’d veterans, among helms and shields, and chariots, horses, elephants, banners, castles, slings, and rocks.
10. The speary hand burn’d aloft; unbuckled was the shield; forth went the hand of jealousy among the flaming hair, and hurl’d the new-born wonder through the starry night.