Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.

Ebenezer Jones 1820–60

Song of the Kings of Gold

OURS all are marble halls,

Amid untrodden groves

Where music ever calls,

Where faintest perfume roves;

And thousands toiling moan,

That gorgeous robes may fold

The haughty forms alone

Of us—the Kings of Gold.

We cannot count our slaves,

Nothing bounds our sway,

Our will destroys and saves,

We let, we create, we slay.

Ha! ha! who are Gods?

Purple, and crimson, and blue,

Jewels, and silks, and pearl,

All splendors of form and hue,

Our charm’d existence furl;

When dared shadow dim

The glow in our winecups roll’d?

When droop’d the banquet-hymn

Rais’d for the King of Gold?

The earth, the earth, is ours!

Its corn, its fruits, its wine,

Its sun, its rain, its flowers,

Ours, all, all!—cannot shine

One sunlight ray, but where

Our mighty titles hold;

Wherever life is, there

Possess the Kings of Gold.

And all on earth that lives,

Woman, and man, and child,

Us trembling homage gives;

Aye trampled, sport-defil’d,

None dareth raise one frown,

Or slightest questioning hold;

Our scorn but strikes them down

To adore the Kings of Gold.

In a glorious sea of hate,

Eternal rocks we stand;

Our joy is our lonely state,

And our trust, our own right hand;

We frown, and nations shrink;

They curse, but our swords are old;

And the wine of their rage deep drink

The dauntless Kings of Gold.

We cannot count our slaves,

Nothing bounds our sway,

Our will destroys and saves,

We let, we create, we slay.

Ha! ha! who are Gods?