Page:Songs of the Springtides - Swinburne (1880).pdf/135

 And knights whose lives were flights of eagles' wings, And lives like snakes' lives of engendering kings; And all the ravin of all the swords that reap Lives cast as sheaves on heap From all the billowing harvest-fields of fight; And sounds of love-songs lovelier than the light.

The grim dim thrones of the east Set for death's riotous feast Round the bright board where darkling centuries wait, And servile slaughter, mute, Feeds power with fresh red fruit, Glitter and groan with mortal food of fate; And throne and cup and lamp's bright breath

Dead freedom by live empire lies defiled, And murder at his feet