While The Billy BoilsSearchThe city of a thousand gatesThat ope on all the seas,A thousand fleets that bear the freightsOf opulence and ease!
The city of a thousand gatesThat ope on all the lands,Whose fruitage falls, whose fullness waitsTo fill her high commands!
Boast not her pride, ye aldermen,Ye pharisaic few!Who know not that dread moment whenNemesis sups with you.
Her legions, pitiless and stark,Have slipped oppression’s chain,To surge, death-drifted thro’ the dark,And claim their own again.
Reckless ye dare the unseen odds,Take heed, ye hooded owls!And turn ye, turn ye to your gods,Or e’er the man-pack howls!
Your pride is false, your boasting lies,Your feasting tragedy;Your triumphs peer thro’ haunting eyesOf human misery!
Around your boards the vampire broodWhich veils its traitor faceIn patriot domino and hoodClaims its dishonoured place!
Power and more power, your captains striveFor victories of an hour!Blindfold, but desperate ye driveThe blindfold steeds of power!
Wealth and more wealth, the pigmy powerThat holds your helots tame,Shall turn to ashes in the hourThat sees your skies aflame!
Wealth and more wealth, the petty pride,Slow compassed, swift undone —Nineveh in the dust doth hide!And where is Babylon?
Quick! to your gates! the pent flame leaps,To whelm your brittle dross;Too late! the red wing’d terror sweepsYour tottering towers across!
Wolf and grey wolf — Nemesis nods —Take heed, ye hooded owls!And turn ye, turn ye to your gods,Or e’er the man-pack howls!
Wolf and grey wolf — the balance turns —To-morrow’s winds at playShall whistle o’er unhonoured urnsOf immemorial clay!