Page:TheBirth of the War-God.djvu/30

18 Earth, Hell, and Heaven, beneath his rage must groan, Till force can hurl him from his evil throne. Alas! where glowed the bright celestial bowers, And gentle Fair Ones nursed the opening flowers,— Where heavenly trees a heavenly odour shed, O'er a sad desert ruin reigns instead. He roots up sacred peaks, where stray The fiery coursers of the God of Day, To form bright slopes, and glittering mounds of ease, In the broad gardens of his palaces. There, on his couch, the mighty Lord is fanned Into sweet slumber by a heavenly band— Poor captive Nymphs, who stand in anguish by, Drop the big tear, and heave the ceaseless sigh. And now have elephants defiled The sparkling stream where heavenly smiled, And her gold Lotuses the Fiend has taken To deck his pools, and left her all forsaken. The Gods of Heaven no more delight to roam O'er all the world, far from their glorious home; They dread the Demon's impious might, nor dare Speed their bright chariots through the fields of air; And when our worshippers in duty bring The appointed victims for the offering. He tears them from the flame with magic art, While we all powerless watch with drooping heart. He too has stolen from his master's side The Steed of heavenly race, great pride: No more our hosts, so glorious once, withstand The fierce dominion of the Demon's hand. As herbs of healing virtue fail to tame The sickness raging; through the infected frame.