Jihad

This is an age, our canonist’s new dictum Assures us, of the pen: in our world now The sword has no more virtue.

Has it not reached Our pious oracle’s ear, that in the Mosque Such sermonizing nowadays has grown Rhymeless and reasonless?

Where, in a Muslim’s hand, Will he find dagger or rifle? And if there were, Our hearts have lost all memory of delight In death.

To one whose nerves falter at even An infidel cut down, who would exclaim ‘Die like a Muslim!’

Preach relinquishment Of such crusades to him whose bloody fist Menaces earth!

Europe, swathed cap-a-pie In mail, mounts guard over her glittering reign Of falsehood;

we enquire of our divine, So tender of Christendom: if for the East War is unhallowed, is not war unhallowed For Western arms?

And if your goal be truth, Is this the right road—Europe’s faults all glossed, And all Islam’s held to so strict an audit?