<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117666" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Book VII: Ethandune, the Last Charge</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Away in the waste of White Horse Down<br>An idle child alone<br>Played some small game through hours that pass,<br>And patiently would pluck the grass,<br>Patiently push the stone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the lean, green edge for ever,<br>Where the blank chalk touched the turf,<br>The child played on, alone, divine,<br>As a child plays on the last line<br>That sunders sand and surf.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For he dwelleth in high divisions<br>Too simple to understand,<br>Seeing on what morn of mystery<br>The Uncreated rent the sea<br>With roarings, from the land.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Through the long infant hours like days<br>He built one tower in vain--<br>Piled up small stones to make a town,<br>And evermore the stones fell down,<br>And he piled them up again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And crimson kings on battle-towers,<br>And saints on Gothic spires,<br>And hermits on their peaks of snow,<br>And heroes on their pyres,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And patriots riding royally,<br>That rush the rocking town,<br>Stretch hands, and hunger and aspire,<br>Seeking to mount where high and higher,<br>The child whom Time can never tire,<br>Sings over White Horse Down.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And this was the might of Alfred,<br>At the ending of the way;<br>That of such smiters, wise or wild,<br>He was least distant from the child,<br>Piling the stones all day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For Eldred fought like a frank hunter<br>That killeth and goeth home;<br>And Mark had fought because all arms<br>Rang like the name of Rome.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Colan fought with a double mind,<br>Moody and madly gay;<br>But Alfred fought as gravely<br>As a good child at play.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He saw wheels break and work run back<br>And all things as they were;<br>And his heart was orbed like victory<br>And simple like despair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Therefore is Mark forgotten,<br>That was wise with his tongue and brave;<br>And the cairn over Colan crumbled,<br>And the cross on Eldred's grave.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Their great souls went on a wind away,<br>And they have not tale or tomb;<br>And Alfred born in Wantage<br>Rules England till the doom.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Because in the forest of all fears<br>Like a strange fresh gust from sea,<br>Struck him that ancient innocence<br>That is more than mastery.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And as a child whose bricks fall down<br>Re-piles them o'er and o'er,<br>Came ruin and the rain that burns,<br>Returning as a wheel returns,<br>And crouching in the furze and ferns<br>He began his life once more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He took his ivory horn unslung<br>And smiled, but not in scorn:<br>"Endeth the Battle of Ethandune<br>With the blowing of a horn."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On a dark horse at the double way<br>He saw great Guthrum ride,<br>Heard roar of brass and ring of steel,<br>The laughter and the trumpet peal,<br>The pagan in his pride.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Ogier's red and hated head<br>Moved in some talk or task;<br>But the men seemed scattered in the brier,<br>And some of them had lit a fire,<br>And one had broached a cask.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And waggons one or two stood up,<br>Like tall ships in sight,<br>As if an outpost were encamped<br>At the cloven ways for night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And joyous of the sudden stay<br>Of Alfred's routed few,<br>Sat one upon a stone to sigh,<br>And some slipped up the road to fly,<br>Till Alfred in the fern hard by<br>Set horn to mouth and blew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And they all abode like statues--<br>One sitting on the stone,<br>One half-way through the thorn hedge tall,<br>One with a leg across a wall,<br>And one looked backwards, very small,<br>Far up the road, alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Grey twilight and a yellow star<br>Hung over thorn and hill;<br>Two spears and a cloven war-shield lay<br>Loose on the road as cast away,<br>The horn died faint in the forest grey,<br>And the fleeing men stood still.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Brothers at arms," said Alfred,<br>"On this side lies the foe;<br>Are slavery and starvation flowers,<br>That you should pluck them so?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"For whether is it better<br>To be prodded with Danish poles,<br>Having hewn a chamber in a ditch,<br>And hounded like a howling witch,<br>Or smoked to death in holes?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Or that before the red cock crow<br>All we, a thousand strong,<br>Go down the dark road to God's house,<br>Singing a Wessex song?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"To sweat a slave to a race of slaves,<br>To drink up infamy?<br>No, brothers, by your leave, I think<br>Death is a better ale to drink,<br>And by all the stars of Christ that sink,<br>The Danes shall drink with me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"To grow old cowed in a conquered land,<br>With the sun itself discrowned,<br>To see trees crouch and cattle slink--<br>Death is a better ale to drink,<br>And by high Death on the fell brink<br>That flagon shall go round.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Though dead are all the paladins<br>Whom glory had in ken,<br>Though all your thunder-sworded thanes<br>With proud hearts died among the Danes,<br>While a man remains, great war remains:<br>Now is a war of men.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"The men that tear the furrows,<br>The men that fell the trees,<br>When all their lords be lost and dead<br>The bondsmen of the earth shall tread<br>The tyrants of the seas.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"The wheel of the roaring stillness<br>Of all labours under the sun,<br>Speed the wild work as well at least<br>As the whole world's work is done.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Let Hildred hack the shield-wall<br>Clean as he hacks the hedge;<br>Let Gurth the fowler stand as cool<br>As he stands on the chasm's edge;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Let Gorlias ride the sea-kings<br>As Gorlias rides the sea,<br>Then let all hell and Denmark drive,<br>Yelling to all its fiends alive,<br>And not a rag care we."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When Alfred's word was ended<br>Stood firm that feeble line,<br>Each in his place with club or spear,<br>And fury deeper than deep fear,<br>And smiles as sour as brine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the King held up the horn and said,<br>"See ye my father's horn,<br>That Egbert blew in his empery,<br>Once, when he rode out commonly,<br>Twice when he rode for venery,<br>And thrice on the battle-morn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"But heavier fates have fallen<br>The horn of the Wessex kings,<br>And I blew once, the riding sign,<br>To call you to the fighting line<br>And glory and all good things.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"And now two blasts, the hunting sign,<br>Because we turn to bay;<br>But I will not blow the three blasts,<br>Till we be lost or they.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"And now I blow the hunting sign,<br>Charge some by rule and rod;<br>But when I blow the battle sign,<br>Charge all and go to God."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wild stared the Danes at the double ways<br>Where they loitered, all at large,<br>As that dark line for the last time<br>Doubled the knee to charge--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And caught their weapons clumsily,<br>And marvelled how and why--<br>In such degree, by rule and rod,<br>The people of the peace of God<br>Went roaring down to die.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when the last arrow<br>Was fitted and was flown,<br>When the broken shield hung on the breast,<br>And the hopeless lance was laid in rest,<br>And the hopeless horn blown,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The King looked up, and what he saw<br>Was a great light like death,<br>For Our Lady stood on the standards rent,<br>As lonely and as innocent<br>As when between white walls she went<br>And the lilies of Nazareth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One instant in a still light<br>He saw Our Lady then,<br>Her dress was soft as western sky,<br>And she was a queen most womanly--<br>But she was a queen of men.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Over the iron forest<br>He saw Our Lady stand,<br>Her eyes were sad withouten art,<br>And seven swords were in her heart--<br>But one was in her hand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then the last charge went blindly,<br>And all too lost for fear:<br>The Danes closed round, a roaring ring,<br>And twenty clubs rose o'er the King,<br>Four Danes hewed at him, halloing,<br>And Ogier of the Stone and Sling<br>Drove at him with a spear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the Danes were wild with laughter,<br>And the great spear swung wide,<br>The point stuck to a straggling tree,<br>And either host cried suddenly,<br>As Alfred leapt aside.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Short time had shaggy Ogier<br>To pull his lance in line--<br>He knew King Alfred's axe on high,<br>He heard it rushing through the sky,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He cowered beneath it with a cry--<br>It split him to the spine:<br>And Alfred sprang over him dead,<br>And blew the battle sign.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then bursting all and blasting<br>Came Christendom like death,<br>Kicked of such catapults of will,<br>The staves shiver, the barrels spill,<br>The waggons waver and crash and kill<br>The waggoners beneath.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Barriers go backwards, banners rend,<br>Great shields groan like a gong--<br>Horses like horns of nightmare<br>Neigh horribly and long.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Horses ramp high and rock and boil<br>And break their golden reins,<br>And slide on carnage clamorously,<br>Down where the bitter blood doth lie,<br>Where Ogier went on foot to die,<br>In the old way of the Danes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"The high tide!" King Alfred cried.<br>"The high tide and the turn!<br>As a tide turns on the tall grey seas,<br>See how they waver in the trees,<br>How stray their spears, how knock their knees,<br>How wild their watchfires burn!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"The Mother of God goes over them,<br>Walking on wind and flame,<br>And the storm-cloud drifts from city and dale,<br>And the White Horse stamps in the White Horse Vale,<br>And we all shall yet drink Christian ale<br>In the village of our name.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"The Mother of God goes over them,<br>On dreadful cherubs borne;<br>And the psalm is roaring above the rune,<br>And the Cross goes over the sun and moon,<br>Endeth the battle of Ethandune<br>With the blowing of a horn."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For back indeed disorderly<br>The Danes went clamouring,<br>Too worn to take anew the tale,<br>Or dazed with insolence and ale,<br>Or stunned of heaven, or stricken pale<br>Before the face of the King.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For dire was Alfred in his hour<br>The pale scribe witnesseth,<br>More mighty in defeat was he<br>Than all men else in victory,<br>And behind, his men came murderously,<br>Dry-throated, drinking death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Edgar of the Golden Ship<br>He slew with his own hand,<br>Took Ludwig from his lady's bower,<br>And smote down Harmar in his hour,<br>And vain and lonely stood the tower--<br>The tower in Guelderland.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Torr out of his tiny boat,<br>Whose eyes beheld the Nile,<br>Wulf with his war-cry on his lips,<br>And Harco born in the eclipse,<br>Who blocked the Seine with battleships<br>Round Paris on the Isle.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Hacon of the Harvest-Song,<br>And Dirck from the Elbe he slew,<br>And Cnut that melted Durham bell<br>And Fulk and fiery Oscar fell,<br>And Goderic and Sigael,<br>And Uriel of the Yew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And highest sang the slaughter,<br>And fastest fell the slain,<br>When from the wood-road's blackening throat<br>A crowning and crashing wonder smote<br>The rear-guard of the Dane.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For the dregs of Colan's company--<br>Lost down the other road--<br>Had gathered and grown and heard the din,<br>And with wild yells came pouring in,<br>Naked as their old British kin,<br>And bright with blood for woad.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And bare and bloody and aloft<br>They bore before their band<br>The body of the mighty lord,<br>Colan of Caerleon and its horde,<br>That bore King Alfred's battle-sword<br>Broken in his left hand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And a strange music went with him,<br>Loud and yet strangely far;<br>The wild pipes of the western land,<br>Too keen for the ear to understand,<br>Sang high and deathly on each hand<br>When the dead man went to war.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Blocked between ghost and buccaneer,<br>Brave men have dropped and died;<br>And the wild sea-lords well might quail<br>As the ghastly war-pipes of the Gael<br>Called to the horns of White Horse Vale,<br>And all the horns replied.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Hildred the poor hedger<br>Cut down four captains dead,<br>And Halmar laid three others low,<br>And the great earls wavered to and fro<br>For the living and the dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Gorlias grasped the great flag,<br>The Raven of Odin, torn;<br>And the eyes of Guthrum altered,<br>For the first time since morn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As a turn of the wheel of tempest<br>Tilts up the whole sky tall,<br>And cliffs of wan cloud luminous<br>Lean out like great walls over us,<br>As if the heavens might fall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As such a tall and tilted sky<br>Sends certain snow or light,<br>So did the eyes of Guthrum change,<br>And the turn was more certain and more strange<br>Than a thousand men in flight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For not till the floor of the skies is split,<br>And hell-fire shines through the sea,<br>Or the stars look up through the rent earth's knees,<br>Cometh such rending of certainties,<br>As when one wise man truly sees<br>What is more wise than he.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He set his horse in the battle-breech<br>Even Guthrum of the Dane,<br>And as ever had fallen fell his brand,<br>A falling tower o'er many a land,<br>But Gurth the fowler laid one hand<br>Upon this bridle rein.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">King Guthrum was a great lord,<br>And higher than his gods--<br>He put the popes to laughter,<br>He chid the saints with rods,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He took this hollow world of ours<br>For a cup to hold his wine;<br>In the parting of the woodways<br>There came to him a sign.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In Wessex in the forest,<br>In the breaking of the spears,<br>We set a sign on Guthrum<br>To blaze a thousand years.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where the high saddles jostle<br>And the horse-tails toss,<br>There rose to the birds flying<br>A roar of dead and dying;<br>In deafness and strong crying<br>We signed him with the cross.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Far out to the winding river<br>The blood ran down for days,<br>When we put the cross on Guthrum<br>In the parting of the ways.</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> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=117666" data-title="Book VII: Ethandune, the Last Charge de G.K. Chesterton" data-description="Away in the waste of White Horse Down/An idle child alone/Played some small game through hours that pass,/And patiently would pluck the grass,/Patiently push the stone./On the lean, green edge for ever,/Where the blank chalk touched the turf,/The ..."></div> </div> </div>

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