BELLONA 



Thou art moulded in marble impassive, 

 False goddess, fair statue of strife, 



Yet standest on pedestal massive, 

 A symbol and token of life. 



Thou art still, not with stillness of 

 languor, 

 And calm, not with calm boding rest ; 



For thine is all wrath and all anger 

 That throbs far and near in the breast 

 Of man, by thy presence possess'd. 



With the brow of a fallen archangel, 



The lips of a beautiful fiend. 

 And locks that are snake-like to strangle, 



And eyes from whose depths may be 

 glean'd 

 The presence of passions, that tremble 



Unbidden, yet shine as they may 

 Through features too proud to dissemble, 



Too cold and too calm to betray 



Their secrets to creatures of clay. 



Thy breath stirreth faction and party. 



Men rise, and no voice can avail 

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