The fiat has gone forth, the die is cast, And war, dread terror, is proclaimed at last. Peace stands apart, sad-eyed, her wistful gaze Bent upon Sorrow's sombre suffering face, Behind whose form the King of Terrors stands His gleaming sickle ready in his hands; His burning eyes fixed on the God of War Who sits enthroned on his triumphal car, Round which the patriotic votaries throng As the blood-spattered chariot rolls along. The Powers look on, following with watchful eyes The tactics of the rival enemies. Spain, with Defiance written on her shield, Stands proudly by her guns, she will not yield; The States, with flashing eyes and vengeful mein, Remembering the "Maine," complete the scene. The background of the picture is concealed By smoke and fire, the future unrevealed. Whose will the victory be? O, God of Might, Vanquish the Wrong, give victory to the Right!
