Page:Rudyard Kipling's verse - Inclusive Edition 1885-1918.djvu/379

 Him we o'erset with the butts of our spears— Him and his vast designs— To be the scorn of our muleteers And the jest of our halted lines.

By the picket-pins that the dogs defile, In the dung and the dust He lay, Till the priests ran and chattered awhile And wiped Him and took Him away.

Hushing the matter before it was known, They returned to our fathers afar, And hastily set Him afresh on His throne Because he had won us the war.

Wherefore with knees that feign to quake— Bent head and shaded brow— To this dead dog, for my father's sake, In Rimmon's House I bow!

Here was a people whom after their works thou shalt see wept over for their lost dominion: and in this palace is the last information respecting lords collected in the dust. The Arabian Nights. N A land that the sand overlays the ways to her gates are untrod— A multitude ended their days whose fates were made splendid by God,