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THE LAY OF CHRYSOSTOM

Since thou dost in thy cruelty desire

The ruthless rigour of thy tyranny

From tongue to tongue, from land to land proclaimed,

The very Hell will I constrain to lend

This stricken breast of mine deep notes of woe

To serve my need of fitting utterance.

And as I strive to body forth the tale

Of all I suffer, all that thou hast done,

Forth shall the dread voice roll, and bear along

Shreds from my vitals torn for greater pain.

Then listen, not to dulcet harmony,

But to a discord wrung by mad despair

Out of this bosom's depths of bitterness,

To ease my heart and plant a sting in thine.

The lion's roar, the fierce wolf's savage howl,

The horrid hissing of the scaly snake,

The awesome cries of monsters yet unnamed,

The crow's ill-boding croak, the hollow moan

Of wild winds wrestling with the restless sea,

The wrathful bellow of the vanquished bull,

The plaintive sobbing of the widowed dove,

The envied owl's sad note, the wail of woe

That rises from the dreary choir of Hell,