Lucifer

Voltaire, our England's lover, man divineBeyond all Gods that ever fear adoredBy right and might, by sceptre and by sword,By godlike love of sunlike truth, made thineThrough godlike hate of falsehood's marshlight shineAnd all the fume of creeds and deeds abhorredWhose light was darkness, till the dawn-star soared,Truth, reason, mercy, justice, keep thy shrineSacred in memory's temple, seeing that noneOf all souls born to strive before the sunLoved ever good or hated evil more.The snake that felt thy heel upon her head,Night's first-born, writhes as though she were not dead,But strikes not, stings not, slays not as before.