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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117665" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Book VI: Ethandune, the Slaying of the Chiefs</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">As the sea flooding the flat sands<br>Flew on the sea-born horde,<br>The two hosts shocked with dust and din,<br>Left of the Latian paladin,<br>Clanged all Prince Harold's howling kin<br>On Colan and the sword.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Crashed in the midst on Marcus,<br>Ogier with Guthrum by,<br>And eastward of such central stir,<br>Far to the right and faintlier,<br>The house of Elf the harp-player,<br>Struck Eldred's with a cry.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The centre swat for weariness,<br>Stemming the screaming horde,<br>And wearily went Colan's hands<br>That swung King Alfred's sword.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But like a cloud of morning<br>To eastward easily,<br>Tall Eldred broke the sea of spears<br>As a tall ship breaks the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His face like a sanguine sunset,<br>His shoulder a Wessex down,<br>His hand like a windy hammer-stroke;<br>Men could not count the crests he broke,<br>So fast the crests went down.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As the tall white devil of the Plague<br>Moves out of Asian skies,<br>With his foot on a waste of cities<br>And his head in a cloud of flies;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or purple and peacock skies grow dark<br>With a moving locust-tower;<br>Or tawny sand-winds tall and dry,<br>Like hell's red banners beat and fly,<br>When death comes out of Araby,<br>Was Eldred in his hour.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But while he moved like a massacre<br>He murmured as in sleep,<br>And his words were all of low hedges<br>And little fields and sheep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even as he strode like a pestilence,<br>That strides from Rhine to Rome,<br>He thought how tall his beans might be<br>If ever he went home.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Spoke some stiff piece of childish prayer,<br>Dull as the distant chimes,<br>That thanked our God for good eating<br>And corn and quiet times--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till on the helm of a high chief<br>Fell shatteringly his brand,<br>And the helm broke and the bone broke<br>And the sword broke in his hand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then from the yelling Northmen<br>Driven splintering on him ran<br>Full seven spears, and the seventh<br>Was never made by man.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Seven spears, and the seventh<br>Was wrought as the faerie blades,<br>And given to Elf the minstrel<br>By the monstrous water-maids;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">By them that dwell where luridly<br>Lost waters of the Rhine<br>Move among roots of nations,<br>Being sunken for a sign.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Under all graves they murmur,<br>They murmur and rebel,<br>Down to the buried kingdoms creep,<br>And like a lost rain roar and weep<br>O'er the red heavens of hell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thrice drowned was Elf the minstrel,<br>And washed as dead on sand;<br>And the third time men found him<br>The spear was in his hand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Seven spears went about Eldred,<br>Like stays about a mast;<br>But there was sorrow by the sea<br>For the driving of the last.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Six spears thrust upon Eldred<br>Were splintered while he laughed;<br>One spear thrust into Eldred,<br>Three feet of blade and shaft.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And from the great heart grievously<br>Came forth the shaft and blade,<br>And he stood with the face of a dead man,<br>Stood a little, and swayed--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then fell, as falls a battle-tower,<br>On smashed and struggling spears.<br>Cast down from some unconquered town<br>That, rushing earthward, carries down<br>Loads of live men of all renown--<br>Archers and engineers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And a great clamour of Christian men<br>Went up in agony,<br>Crying, "Fallen is the tower of Wessex<br>That stood beside the sea."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Centre and right the Wessex guard<br>Grew pale for doubt and fear,<br>And the flank failed at the advance,<br>For the death-light on the wizard lance--<br>The star of the evil spear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Stand like an oak," cried Marcus,<br>"Stand like a Roman wall!<br>Eldred the Good is fallen--<br>Are you too good to fall?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"When we were wan and bloodless<br>He gave you ale enow;<br>The pirates deal with him as dung,<br>God! are you bloodless now?"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Grip, Wulf and Gorlias, grip the ash!<br>Slaves, and I make you free!<br>Stamp, Hildred hard in English land,<br>Stand Gurth, stand Gorlias, Gawen stand!<br>Hold, Halfgar, with the other hand,<br>Halmer, hold up on knee!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"The lamps are dying in your homes,<br>The fruits upon your bough;<br>Even now your old thatch smoulders, Gurth,<br>Now is the judgment of the earth,<br>Now is the death-grip, now!"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For thunder of the captain,<br>Not less the Wessex line,<br>Leaned back and reeled a space to rear<br>As Elf charged with the Rhine maids' spear,<br>And roaring like the Rhine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For the men were borne by the waving walls<br>Of woods and clouds that pass,<br>By dizzy plains and drifting sea,<br>And they mixed God with glamoury,<br>God with the gods of the burning tree<br>And the wizard's tower and glass.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But Mark was come of the glittering towns<br>Where hot white details show,<br>Where men can number and expound,<br>And his faith grew in a hard ground<br>Of doubt and reason and falsehood found,<br>Where no faith else could grow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Belief that grew of all beliefs<br>One moment back was blown<br>And belief that stood on unbelief<br>Stood up iron and alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Wessex crescent backwards<br>Crushed, as with bloody spear<br>Went Elf roaring and routing,<br>And Mark against Elf yet shouting,<br>Shocked, in his mid-career.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Right on the Roman shield and sword<br>Did spear of the Rhine maids run;<br>But the shield shifted never,<br>The sword rang down to sever,<br>The great Rhine sang for ever,<br>And the songs of Elf were done.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And a great thunder of Christian men<br>Went up against the sky,<br>Saying, "God hath broken the evil spear<br>Ere the good man's blood was dry."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Spears at the charge!" yelled Mark amain.<br>"Death on the gods of death!<br>Over the thrones of doom and blood<br>Goeth God that is a craftsman good,<br>And gold and iron, earth and wood,<br>Loveth and laboureth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"The fruits leap up in all your farms,<br>The lamps in each abode;<br>God of all good things done on earth,<br>All wheels or webs of any worth,<br>The God that makes the roof, Gurth,<br>The God that makes the road.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"The God that heweth kings in oak<br>Writeth songs on vellum,<br>God of gold and flaming glass,<br>Confregit potentias<br>Acrcuum, scutum, Gorlias,<br>Gladium et bellum."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Steel and lightning broke about him,<br>Battle-bays and palm,<br>All the sea-kings swayed among<br>Woods of the Wessex arms upflung,<br>The trumpet of the Roman tongue,<br>The thunder of the psalm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And midmost of that rolling field<br>Ran Ogier ragingly,<br>Lashing at Mark, who turned his blow,<br>And brake the helm about his brow,<br>And broke him to his knee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then Ogier heaved over his head<br>His huge round shield of proof;<br>But Mark set one foot on the shield,<br>One on some sundered rock upheeled,<br>And towered above the tossing field,<br>A statue on a roof.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dealing far blows about the fight,<br>Like thunder-bolts a-roam,<br>Like birds about the battle-field,<br>While Ogier writhed under his shield<br>Like a tortoise in his dome.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But hate in the buried Ogier<br>Was strong as pain in hell,<br>With bare brute hand from the inside<br>He burst the shield of brass and hide,<br>And a death-stroke to the Roman's side<br>Sent suddenly and well.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then the great statue on the shield<br>Looked his last look around<br>With level and imperial eye;<br>And Mark, the man from Italy,<br>Fell in the sea of agony,<br>And died without a sound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Ogier, leaping up alive,<br>Hurled his huge shield away<br>Flying, as when a juggler flings<br>A whizzing plate in play.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And held two arms up rigidly,<br>And roared to all the Danes:<br>"Fallen is Rome, yea, fallen<br>The city of the plains!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Shall no man born remember,<br>That breaketh wood or weald,<br>How long she stood on the roof of the world<br>As he stood on my shield.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"The new wild world forgetteth her<br>As foam fades on the sea,<br>How long she stood with her foot on Man<br>As he with his foot on me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"No more shall the brown men of the south<br>Move like the ants in lines,<br>To quiet men with olives<br>Or madden men with vines.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"No more shall the white towns of the south,<br>Where Tiber and Nilus run,<br>Sitting around a secret sea<br>Worship a secret sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"The blind gods roar for Rome fallen,<br>And forum and garland gone,<br>For the ice of the north is broken,<br>And the sea of the north comes on.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"The blind gods roar and rave and dream<br>Of all cities under the sea,<br>For the heart of the north is broken,<br>And the blood of the north is free.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Down from the dome of the world we come,<br>Rivers on rivers down,<br>Under us swirl the sects and hordes<br>And the high dooms we drown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Down from the dome of the world and down,<br>Struck flying as a skiff<br>On a river in spate is spun and swirled<br>Until we come to the end of the world<br>That breaks short, like a cliff.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"And when we come to the end of the world<br>For me, I count it fit<br>To take the leap like a good river,<br>Shot shrieking over it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"But whatso hap at the end of the world,<br>Where Nothing is struck and sounds,<br>It is not, by Thor, these monkish men<br>These humbled Wessex hounds--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Not this pale line of Christian hinds,<br>This one white string of men,<br>Shall keep us back from the end of the world,<br>And the things that happen then.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"It is not Alfred's dwarfish sword,<br>Nor Egbert's pigmy crown,<br>Shall stay us now that descend in thunder,<br>Rending the realms and the realms thereunder,<br>Down through the world and down."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was that in the wild men back of him,<br>There was that in his own wild song,<br>A dizzy throbbing, a drunkard smoke,<br>That dazed to death all Wessex folk,<br>And swept their spears along.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Vainly the sword of Colan<br>And the axe of Alfred plied--<br>The Danes poured in like a brainless plague,<br>And knew not when they died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Prince Colan slew a score of them,<br>And was stricken to his knee;<br>King Alfred slew a score and seven<br>And was borne back on a tree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Back to the black gate of the woods,<br>Back up the single way,<br>Back by the place of the parting ways<br>Christ's knights were whirled away.<br>And when they came to the parting ways<br>Doom's heaviest hammer fell,<br>For the King was beaten, blind, at bay,<br>Down the right lane with his array,<br>But Colan swept the other way,<br>Where he smote great strokes and fell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The thorn-woods over Ethandune<br>Stand sharp and thick as spears,<br>By night and furze and forest-harms<br>Far sundered were the friends in arms;<br>The loud lost blows, the last alarms,<br>Came not to Alfred's ears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The thorn-woods over Ethandune<br>Stand stiff as spikes in mail;<br>As to the Haut King came at morn<br>Dead Roland on a doubtful horn,<br>Seemed unto Alfred lightly borne<br>The last cry of the Gael.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=G.K.+Chesterton">G.K. Chesterton</a> from <i>The Ballad of the White Horse</i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117665" data-title="Book VI: Ethandune, the Slaying of the Chiefs de G.K. Chesterton" data-description="As the sea flooding the flat sands/Flew on the sea-born horde,/The two hosts shocked with dust and din,/Left of the Latian paladin,/Clanged all Prince Harold's howling kin/On Colan and the sword./Crashed in the midst on Marcus,/Ogier with Guthrum ..."></div>
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