THE POWERS OF PEREZ

                  I

There are now so many bodies
Buried or unburied,
Not quite alive in mortal
Concentrations,
There are so many jailed and humiliated,
Under great heaps of injustice,
So much of the nation lies reformed in the tomb
That peace
Can be proclaimed.
The Crusade is over. Long live the Chief!

The Chief, alone at last,
Closes the doors, welcomes his ease.
                                                                    Alone,
Without the weight of an abominable world,
Without the mob that fears and adores him,
Adores and detests him.
They have elevated him in their own behalf
And on their backs
He rises,
God's own chieftain.
Victory is most holy.

Yes! Next to the Chief, they spy God,
Who was so favorable to the cause.
A common enterprise unites them.

How could a man, one single man,
Drive so many thronged barbarians Into winds
Of homicidal pursuit?
Or into circles of minds quicker
Than the brain that won the General's sash?
The sash of a shining Crusader,
Anointed by the Grace Of God, who is the guide.

Guide through a war
So cruelly perfect
For sending a people to their destiny.

Destiny so notable
It entirely denies the multitudinous adversary
Imprisoned or under the sod:
They do not vote, do not trouble anyone.

Unanimous nation!
The pure survive,
So pure in the great sacrifice
That they are covered with fiendish blood.

Oh Chief!—never alone: God will hide you.