Page:Songs of the Springtides - Swinburne (1880).pdf/149



'Let us go hence.' From the inmost shrine of grace Where England hold the elect of her dead There comes a word like one of old time said By gods of old cast out. Here is no place At once for these and one of poisonous race. Let each rise up from his dishallowed bed And pass forth silent. Each divine veiled head Shall speak in silence with averted face. 'Scorn everlasting and eternal shame Eat out the rotting record of his name Who had the glory of all these graves in trust And turned it to a hissing. His offence Makes havoc of their desecrated dust Whose place is here no more. Let us go hence.' Feb. 25, 1880.