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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508858" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Soldier Of Fortune</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Deny your God!&quot; they ringed me with their spears;<br>Blood-crazed were they, and reeking from the strife;<br>Hell-hot their hate, and venom-fanged their sneers,<br>And one man spat on me and nursed a knife.<br>And there was I, sore wounded and alone,<br>I, the last living of my slaughtered band.<br>Oh sinister the sky, and cold as stone!<br>In one red laugh of horror reeled the land.<br>And dazed and desperate I faced their spears,<br>And like a flame out-leaped that naked knife,<br>And like a serpent stung their bitter jeers:<br>&quot;Deny your God, and we will give you life.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Deny my God! Oh life was very sweet!<br>And it is hard in youth and hope to die;<br>And there my comrades dear lay at my feet,<br>And in that blear of blood soon must I lie.<br>And yet . . . I almost laughed -- it seemed so odd,<br>For long and long had I not vainly tried<br>To reason out and body forth my God,<br>And prayed for light, and doubted -- and denied:<br>Denied the Being I could not conceive,<br>Denied a life-to-be beyond the grave. . . .<br>And now they ask me, who do not believe,<br>Just to deny, to voice my doubt, to save<br>This life of mine that sings so in the sun,<br>The bloom of youth yet red upon my cheek,<br>My only life! -- O fools! 'tis easy done,<br>I will deny . . . and yet I do not speak.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Deny your God!&quot; their spears are all agleam,<br>And I can see their eyes with blood-lust shine;<br>Their snarling voices shrill into a scream,<br>And, mad to slay, they quiver for the sign.<br>Deny my God! yes, I could do it well;<br>Yet if I did, what of my race, my name?<br>How they would spit on me, these dogs of hell!<br>Spurn me, and put on me the brand of shame.<br>A white man's honour! what of that, I say?<br>Shall these black curs cry &quot;Coward&quot; in my face?<br>They who would perish for their gods of clay --<br>Shall I defile my country and my race?<br>My country! what's my country to me now?<br>Soldier of Fortune, free and far I roam;<br>All men are brothers in my heart, I vow;<br>The wide and wondrous world is all my home.<br>My country! reverent of her splendid Dead,<br>Her heroes proud, her martyrs pierced with pain:<br>For me her puissant blood was vainly shed;<br>For me her drums of battle beat in vain,<br>And free I fare, half-heedless of her fate:<br>No faith, no flag I owe -- then why not seek<br>This last loop-hole of life? Why hesitate?<br>I will deny . . . and yet I do not speak.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Deny your God!&quot; their spears are poised on high,<br>And tense and terrible they wait the word;<br>And dark and darker glooms the dreary sky,<br>And in that hush of horror no thing stirred.<br>Then, through the ringing terror and sheer hate<br>Leaped there a vision to me -- Oh, how far!<br>A face, Her face . . . through all my stormy fate<br>A joy, a strength, a glory and a star.<br>Beneath the pines, where lonely camp-fires gleam,<br>In seas forlorn, amid the deserts drear,<br>How I had gladdened to that face of dream!<br>And never, never had it seemed so dear.<br>O silken hair that veils the sunny brow!<br>O eyes of grey, so tender and so true!<br>O lips of smiling sweetness! must I now<br>For ever and for ever go from you?<br>Ah, yes, I must . . . for if I do this thing,<br>How can I look into your face again?<br>Knowing you think me more than half a king,<br>I with my craven heart, my honour slain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No! no! my mind's made up. I gaze above,<br>Into that sky insensate as a stone;<br>Not for my creed, my country, but my Love<br>Will I stand up and meet my death alone.<br>Then though it be to utter dark I sink,<br>The God that dwells in me is not denied;<br>&quot;Best&quot; triumphs over &quot;Beast&quot;, -- and so I think<br>Humanity itself is glorified. . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;And now, my butchers, I embrace my fate.<br>Come! let my heart's blood slake the thirsty sod.<br>Curst be the life you offer! Glut your hate!<br>Strike! Strike, you dogs! I'll not deny my God.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I saw the spears that seemed a-leap to slay,<br>All quiver earthward at the headman's nod;<br>And in a daze of dream I heard him say:<br>&quot;Go, set him free who serves so well his God!&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</a><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=508858" data-title="The Soldier Of Fortune de Robert William Service" data-description="&quot;Deny your God!&quot; they ringed me with their spears;
Blood-crazed were they, and reeking from the strife;
Hell-hot their hate, and venom-fanged their sneers,
And one man spat on me and nursed a knife.
And there was I, sore wounded and alon..."></div>
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