Sons Of Belial

I     We are old,     Old as song.     Before Rome was     Or Cyrene.     Mad nights knew us     And old men's wives.     We knew who spilled the sacred oil     For young-gold harlots of the town....     We knew where the peacocks went     And the white doe for sacrifice.     II     We were the Sons of Belial.     One black night     Centuries ago     We beat at a door     In Gilead....     We took the Levite's concubine     We plucked her hands from off the door....     We choked the cry into her throat     And stuck the stars among her hair....     We glimpsed the madly swaying stars     Between the rhythms of her hair     And all our mute and separate strings     Swelled in a raging symphony....     Our blood sang paeans     All that night     Till dawn fell like a wounded swan     Upon the fields of Gilead.     III     We are old....     Old as song....     We are dumb song.     (Epics tingled     In our blood     When we haled Hypatia     Over the stones     In Alexandria.)     Could we loose     The wild rhythms clinched in us....     March in bands of troubadours....     We would be of gentle mood.     When Christ healed us     Who were dumb -     When he freed our shut-in song -     We strewed green palms     At his pale feet...     We sang hosannas     In Jerusalem.     And all our fumbling voices blent     In a brief white harmony.     (But a mightier song     Was in us pent     When we nailed Christ     To a four-armed tree.)     IV     We are young.     When we rise up with singing roots,     (Warm rains washing     Gutters of Berlin     Where we stamped Rosa... Luxemburg     On a night in spring.)     Rhythms skurry in our blood.     Little nimble rats of song     In our feet run crazily     And all is dust... we trample... on.     Mad nights when we make ritual     (Feet running before the sleuth-light...     And the smell of burnt flesh     By a flame-ringed hut     In Missouri,     Sweet as on Rome's pyre....)     We make ropes do rigadoons     With copper feet that jig on air....     We are the Mob....     Old as song.     Tyre knew us     And Israel.