Earth’s masters despised these truths; they who had Supremacy and wealth went drunk and mad With licence; worms could bear no more; and crown, And lordship—heads with them—came tumbling down. Majesty was a ball for mobs to spurn; Awe’s excess was matched by excess of scorn. It was the dregs’ orgy; rule of brute force; And each man’s fury followed its full course. Guilt will, whatever an offence, appear Less heinous to third persons than seen near. Trial now was before a Court of one;— Judge, suitor, he to whom the hurt was done. Vengeance extreme would rouse convict, or kin, To redress disproportioned to the sin, And, unindulged, leave on the other side A balance owing, and unsatisfied; Enmeshing in either case a wide swarm Of households pledged to work each other harm. A blood-feud chokes enterprise;—earn reward For deeds, when hangs over the door a sword! Then, in all ages, let him who shall dare Set rolling stones of civil feud, beware! Whatever lives earlier it may spoil, It will not miss him out; it must recoil, No peace at home for one who has, the first, Poisoned man’s faith in man; he is accurst. Skulk as he may, himself does not believe He shall for aye be able to deceive; In sleep, fever-raging, he will proclaim His sin, and roam clad in the sheet of shame! Drear this “mid passage”, when, as themselves thought, Emancipated, men were sold and bought; Bondsmen to cunning demagogues, who saw Their gain in putting off the reign of Law. But ev’n the Multitude will not endure Chaos, save as interlude. Hence the cure. Mankind wearies of frauds; of vengeful deeds, Infinitely renewing, like ill weeds. From lassitude it lets the wise and good Enlist strong arms to stem the turbid flood. In time some sage arises to extract Ideas of right, that laws condense to act. Youth long since was past; Nature stood aside, Leaving Man to face problems, and replies provide. Iphigenia Bk. I. vv. 80-102 Think not I, and in Reason’s name, blaspheme Holy truths. Nay, for this would ill beseem My purpose. To bring home impious deeds Done as for Religion—that is my theme. Who knows not of Aulis—the Chiefs arrayed About the Altar of the Trivian Maid— Lords, chosen of Achæa, kings of men, Reluctant murderers, ashamed, afraid. And lo! though startled, with no fear at all— For how suspect ill in her loved sire’s call!— A girl, young; yet ripe for marriage; perhaps, Summoned to adorn that high festival! What if some tremor? In her flow’r of days, Brought hither for the host of Greeks to gaze, And admire the Fair, a young hero’s bride. Hark! is not that the wedding chant they raise? Courage! Faint not; here are brave friends will bear Thee to the Altar; all await thee there! “Who, and for what?” She knows not, but a steam, A blood offering, scents she in the air.