Some crown of sorrow sit

Upon a little world for a little hour--

Who shall remember? Who shall care for it?

XII. De Profundis

Come let us curse our Master ere we die,

For all our hopes in endless ruin lie.

The good is dead. Let us curse God most High.

Four thousand years of toil and hope and thought

Wherein man laboured upward and still wrought

New worlds and better, Thou hast made as naught.

We built us joyful cities, strong and fair,

Knowledge we sought and gathered wisdom rare.

And all this time you laughed upon our care,

And suddenly the earth grew black with wrong,

Our hope was crushed and silenced was our song,

The heaven grew loud with weeping. Thou art strong.

Come then and curse the Lord. Over the earth

Gross darkness falls, and evil was our birth

And our few happy days of little worth.

Even if it be not all a dream in vain

The ancient hope that still will rise again--

Of a just God that cares for earthly pain,

Yet far away beyond our labouring night,

He wanders in the depths of endless light,

Singing alone his musics of delight;

Only the far, spent echo of his song

Our dungeons and deep cells can smite along,

And Thou art nearer. Thou art very strong.

O universal strength, I know it well,

It is but froth of folly to rebel;

For thou art Lord and hast the keys of Hell.

Yet I will not bow down to thee nor love thee,

For looking in my own heart I can prove thee,

And know this frail, bruised being is above thee.

Our love, our hope, our thirsting for the right,

Our mercy and long seeking of the light,

Shall we change these for thy relentless might?

Laugh then and slay. Shatter all things of worth,

Heap torment still on torment for thy mirth--

Thou art not Lord while there are Men on earth.

XIII. Satan Speaks

I am the Lord your God: even he that made

Material things, and all these signs arrayed

Above you and have set beneath the race

Of mankind, who forget their Father's face

And even while they drink my light of day

Dream of some other gods and disobey

My warnings, and despise my holy laws,

Even tho' their sin shall slay them. For which cause,

Dreams dreamed in vain, a never-filled desire

And in close flesh a spiritual fire,

A thirst for good their kind shall not attain,

A backward cleaving to the beast again.

A loathing for the life that I have given,

A haunted, twisted soul for ever riven

Between their will and mine-such lot I give

White still in my despite the vermin live.

They hate my world! Then let that other God

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