Full zodiacs three the fiery sun,
Thro' maze of stars, his web has spun,
Since War's late grimy page begun
To blaze its line--the bloody hand
Whose lurid strokes bade Peace to stand.
And, World-heart, O, what hast thou won?
And, is the sad act past and done?
Or, does its score, sunk wide and deep,
In some blind hell fierce-copied keep,
For Days, which, tho' their loath pace creep,
Oft span with strides each reckoned Far;
For such--for Broil's rude, loud, and noted star
To trace once more upon the Light
Yon awful cypher of the Night?