Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/137

 Nor the ardent hate which called on judgment's rod More hateful than the righteousness of God. 'How long, till thou do justice, and my wrong Stand expiate? O long-suffering judge, how long? Shalt thou not put him in mine hand one day Whom I so loved, to spare not but to slay? Shalt thou not cast her down for me to tread, Me, on the pale pride of her humbled head? Do I not well, being angry? doth not hell Require them? yea, thou knowest that I do well. Is not thy seal there set of bloodred light For witness on the brows of day and night? Who shall unseal it? what shall melt away Thy signet from the doors of night and day? No man, nor strength of any spirit above, Nor prayer, nor ardours of adulterous love. Thou art God, the strong lord over body and soul: Hast thou not in the terrors of thy scroll All names of all men written as with fire? Thine only breath bids time and space respire: And are not all things evil in them done More clear in thine eyes than in ours the sun? Hast thou not sight stretched wide enough to see These that offend it, these at once and me? Is thine arm shortened or thine hand struck down As palsied? have thy brows not strength to frown? Are thine eyes blind with film of withering age? Burns not thine heart with righteousness of rage Yet, and the royal rancour toward thy foes Retributive of ruin? Time should close,