O LANGUID audience, met to see The last act of the tragedy On that terrific stage afar, Where burning towns the footlights are, -- O listless Europe, day by day Callously sitting out the play! So sat, with loveless count'nance cold, Round the arena, Rome of old. Pain, and the ebb of life's red tide, So, with a calm regard, she eyed, Her gorgeous vesture, million-pearled, Splashed with the blood of half the world. High was her glory's noon: as yet She had not dreamed her sun could set! As yet she had not dreamed how soon Shadows should vex her glory's noon. Another's pangs she counted nought; Of human hearts she took no thought; But in dread nightfall, vengeance vast Whetted its hungry scythe at last. Perchance in tempest and in blight, On Europe, too, shall fall the night! She sees the victim overborne, By worse than ravening lions torn. She sees, she hears, with soul unstirred, And lifts no hand, and speaks no word, But vaunts a brow like theirs who deem Men's wrongs a phrase, men's rights a dream. Yet haply she shall learn, too late, In some blind hurricane of Fate, How fierily alive the things She held as fool's imaginings, And, though circuitous and obscure, The feet of Nemesis how sure. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITTLE GHOST by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY MANNERLY MARGERY, MILK AND ALE by JOHN SKELTON BUBBLING WINE by ABU ZAKARIYYA PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 29. AL-HAKIM by EDWIN ARNOLD MERCY PLEADS by LUCRETIA STOUT BELLOWS |