Sing, Muse, that battle-royal—­sing
The deeds that made the region ring,
The blows, the bellowing, the cries,
The dust that darkened all the skies,
The thunders of the contest, all—­
Nay, none of these things did befall. 
A yell there was—­a rush—­no more: 
El Toro, tranquil as before,
Still stood there basking in the sun,
Nor of his legs had shifted one—­
Stood there and conjured up his cud
And meekly munched it.  Scenes of blood
Had little charm for him.  His head
He merely nodded as he said: 
“I’ve spread that butterman upon
A slice of Southern Oregon.”

GENESIS

God said, “Let there be Crime,” and the command
Brought Satan, leading Stoneman by the hand. 
“Why, that’s Stupidity, not Crime,” said God—­
“Bring what I ordered.”  Satan with a nod
Replied, “This is one element—­when I
The other—­Opportunity—­supply
In just equivalent, the two’ll affine
And in a chemical embrace combine
And Crime result—­for Crime can only be
Stupiditate of Opportunity.” 
So leaving Stoneman (not as yet endowed
With soul) in special session on a cloud,
Nick to his sooty laboratory went,
Returning soon with t’other element. 
“Here’s Opportunity,” he said, and put
Pen, ink, and paper down at Stoneman’s foot. 
He seized them—­Heaven was filled with fires and thunders,
And Crime was added to Creation’s wonders!

LLEWELLEN POWELL

Villain, when the word is spoken,
And your chains at last are broken
  When the gibbet’s chilling shade
Ceases darkly to enfold you,
And the angel who enrolled you
  As a master of the trade
Of assassination sadly
  Blots the record he has made,
And your name and title paints
In the calendar of saints;
When the devils, dancing madly
In the midmost Hell, are very
Multitudinously merry—­
Then beware, beware, beware!—–­
Nemesis is everywhere! 
You shall hear her at your back,
  And, your hunted visage turning,
  Fancy that her eyes are burning
Like a tiger’s on your track! 
You shall hear her in the breeze
Whispering to summer trees. 
You shall hear her calling, calling
  To your spirit through the storm
  When the giant billows form
And the splintered lightning, falling
Down the heights of Heaven, appalling,
Splendors all the tossing seas! 
On your bed at night reclining,
Stars into your chamber shining
  As they roll around the Pole,
None their purposes divining,
  Shall appear to search your soul,
And to gild the mark of Cain
That burns into your tortured brain! 
And the dead man’s eyes shall ever
  Meet your own wherever you,
  Desperate, shall turn you to,
And you shall escape them never!