I am the God of War--yea, God of Battle am I,
And the evil men speak about me has moved me to fierce reply.
Does not the surgeon's knife
Torture--to save a life?
So, for the life of nations, men learn to fight and die--
Even die!
Craven through love or fear do the weak of the earth await me
Tensely, with bated breath--yea, teaching their sons to hate me.
Lured by my rolling drum,
Nevertheless they come
Proudly, their youth and manhood offering up to sate me!
You who would grudge me aught but harvest of woe and shame--
Answer me, you who hate me, cursing my very name--
When was a serf made free,
Save and alone through me?
When was a tyrant vanquished, save through my purging flame?
After an age of peace do your sons wax soft, their weakness
Shown in a love of ease, of sensuousness, and sleekness;
Then, lest a nation die,
Loud rings my battle-cry!
Lo, they forsake snug warmth for desolate cold and bleakness!
I am the God of War--yea, God of Battle am I,
And the bolts of my savage anger I hurl from a threatening sky.
Speak of me as you will,
Swift though I be to kill,
I have made men of weaklings--I teach men how to die--
Even I!
"I am the Gravest Danger"