The Civil Wars (excerpts)
XXXVI
The swift approach and unexpected speed
The king had made upon this new-rais'd force,
In the unconfirmed troops, much fear did breed,
Untimely hind'ring their intended course.
The joining with the Welsh they had decreed
Was hereby dash'd; which made their cause the worse.
Northumberland, with forces from the north,
Expected to be there, was not set forth.
XXXVII
And yet undaunted Hotspur, seeing the king
So near arriv'd, leaving the work in hand,
With forward speed his forces marshalling,
Sets forth his farther coming to withstand.
And with a cheerful voice encouraging
His well experienc'd and adventurous band,
Brings on his army, eager unto fight;
And plac'd the same before the king in sight.
XXXVIII
"This day," saith he, "my valiant trusty friends,
Whatever it doth give, shall glory give;
This day, with honour, frees our state, or ends
Our misery with fame, that still shall live.
And do but think, how well the same he spends,
Who spends his blood, his country to relieve.
What? have we hands, and shall we servile be?
Why were swords made, but to preserve men free.
XXXIX
"Besides, the assured hope of victory
Which we may even promise on our side,
Against this weak constrained company,
Whom force and fear, not will and love doth guide,
Against a prince, whose foul impiety
The heavens do hate, the earth cannot abide:
Our number being no less, our courage more,
No doubt we have it, if we work therefore."
XL
This said, and thus resolv'd, even bent to charge
Upon the king; who well their order view'd,
And wary noted all the course at large
Of their proceeding, and their multitude,
And deeming better, if he could discharge
The day with safety, and some peace conclude,
Great proffers sends of pardon and of grace
If they would yield, and quietness embrace.
XLI
Which though his fears might drive him to propose,
To time his business, for some other end;
Yet, sure, he could not mean t' have peace with those
Who did in that supreme degree offend.
Nor were they such, as would be won with shows;
Or breath of oaths, or vows could apprehend:
So that in honour the offers he doth make,
Were not for him to give nor them to take.
XLII
And yet this much his courses do approve,
He was not bloody in his natural;
And yield he did to more then might behove
His dignity to have dispens'd withal:
And, unto Worcester, he himself did move
A reconcilement to be made of all:
But Worcester, knowing it could not be secur'd,
His nephews onset, yet for all, procur'd.
XLIII
Which seeing, the king, with greater wrath incens'd,
Rage, against fury, doth with speed prepare.
"And though," said he, "I could have well dispens'd
With this day's blood, which I have sought to spare;
That greater glory might have recompens'd
The forward worth of these, that so much dare;
That we might good have had by th' overthrown,
And the wounds we make might not have been our own:
XLIV
"Yet, since that other men's iniquity
Calls on the sword of wrath, against my will;
And that themselves exact this cruelty,
And I constrained am this blood to spill;
Then on, brave followers, on courageously,
True-hearted subjects, against traitors ill;
And spare not them, who seek to spoil us all
Whose foul confused end, soon see you shall."
XLV
Forthwith, began these fury-moving sounds,
The notes of wrath, the music brought from Hell,
The rattling drums, which trumpets voice confounds
The cries, the encouragements, the shouting shrill;
That, all about, the beaten air rebounds
Confused thundering-murmurs horrible;
To rob all sense, except the sense to fight.
Well hands may work; the mind hath lost his sight.
XLVI
O war! begot in pride and luxury,
The child of malice, and revengeful hate;
Thou impious good, and good impiety,
That art the foul refiner of a state;
Unjust-just scourge of men's iniquity,
Sharp-easer of corruptions desperate;
Is there no means but that a sin-sick land
Must be let blood with such a boisterous hand?
XLVII
How well mightst thou have here been spar'd this day,
Had not wrong-counsell'd Percy been perverse?
Whose forward hand, inur'd to wounds, makes way
Upon the sharpest fronts of the most fierce:
Where now an equal fury thrusts to stay
And back-repel that force, and his disperse:
Then these assail, then those re-chase again,
Till stay'd with new-made hills of bodies slain.
XLVIII
There, lo that new-appearing glorious star,
Wonder of arms, the terror of the field,
Young Henry, labouring where the stoutest are,
And even the stoutest forced back to yield;
There is that hand bolden'd to blood and war,
That must the sword, in wondrous actions, wield:
Though better he had learn'd with others' blood;
A less expense to us, to him more good.
XLIX
Yet here had he not speedy succour lent
To his endanger'd father, near oppress'd,
That day had seen the full accomplishment
Of all his travails, and his final rest.
For, Mars-like Douglas all his forces bent
To encounter and to grapple with the best;
As if disdaining any other thing
To do, that day, but to subdue a king.
L
And three, with fiery courage, he assails;
Three, all as kings adorn'd in royal wise:
And each successive after other quails;
Still wond'ring whence so many kings should rise.
And, doubting lest his hand or eyesight fails,
In these confounded, on a fourth he flies,
And him unhorses too: whom had he sped,
He then all kings, in him, had vanquished.
LI
For Henry had divided, as it were,
The person of himself into four parts;
To be less known, and yet known everywhere,
The more to animate his people's hearts;
Who, cheered by his presence, would not spare
To execute their best and worthiest parts.
By which, two special things effected are:
His safety, and his subjects' better care.
LII
And never worthy prince a day did quit
With greater hazard, and with more renown
Than thou didst, mighty Henry, in this fight;
Which only made thee owner of thine own:
Thou never prov'dst the tenure of thy right
(How thou didst hold thy easy-gotten crown)
Till now; and, now, thou shew'st thyself chief lord,
By that especial right of kings: the sword.
LIII
And dear it cost, and much good blood is shed
To purchase thee a saving victory:
Great Stafford thy high constable lies dead,
With Shorly, Clifton, Gawsell, Calverly,
And many more; whose brave deaths witnessed
Their noble valour and fidelity:
And many more had left their dearest blood
Behind, that day, had Hotspur longer stood.
LIV
But he, as Douglas, with his fury led,
Rushing into the thickest woods of spears,
And brakes of swords, still laying at the head
(The life of th' army) whiles he nothing fears
Or spares his own, comes all invironed
With multitude of power, that over-bears
His manly worth; who yields not, in his fall;
But fighting dies, and dying kills withal.
LV
What ark, what trophy, what magnificence
Of glory, Hotspur, had'st thou purchas'd here;
Could but thy cause as fair as thy pretence
Be made unto thy country to appear!
Had it been her protection and defence
(Not thy ambition) made thee sell so dear
Thyself this day, she must have here made good
An everlasting statue for thy blood.
LVI
Which thus mis-spent, thy army presently,
(As if they could not stand, when thou wert down)
Dispers'd in rout, betook them all to fly:
And Douglas, faint with wounds, and overthrown,
Was taken; who yet won the enemy
Which took him (by his noble valour shown,
In that day's mighty work) and was preserv'd
With all the grace, and honour he deserv'd.
...
poem by Samuel Daniel
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Related quotes
Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 28
A solitary dervish was sitting in a corner of the desert when a padshah happened to pass by but, ease having made him independent, he took no notice. The sultan, in conformity with his royal dignity, became angry and said: "This tribe of rag-wearers resembles beasts."’ The vezier said: "The padshah of the surface of the earth has passed near thee. Why hast thou not paid homage and shown good manners?" He replied: "Tell the king to look for homage from a man who expects benefits from him and also that kings exist for protecting subjects and subjects not for obeying kings."
The padshah is the guardian of the dervish
Although wealth is in the glory of his reign.
The sheep is not for the shepherd
But the shepherd for the service of it.
Today thou beholdest one man prosperous
And another whose heart is wounded by struggling.
Wait a few days till the earth consumes
The brain in the head of the visionary.
Distinction between king and slave has ceased
When the decree of fate overtakes them.
If a man were to open the tombs of the dead
He would not distinguish a rich from a poor man.
The king, who was pleased with the sentiments of the dervish, asked him to make a request but he answered that the only one he had to make was to be left alone. The king then asked for advice and the dervish said:
"Understand now while wealth is in thy hand
That fortune and kingdom will leave thy hand."
Psalm 89
The covenant made with Christ; or, The true David.
For ever shall my song record
The truth and mercy of the Lord;
Mercy and truth for ever stand,
Like heav'n, established by his hand.
Thus to his Son he sware, and said,
"With thee my cov'nant first is made;
In thee shall dying sinners live,
Glory and grace are thine to give.
"Be thou my Prophet, thou my Priest;
Thy children shall be ever blest;
Thou art my chosen King: thy throne
Shall stand eternal like my own.
"There's none of all my sons above
So much my image or my love;
Celestial powers thy subjects are:
Then what can earth to thee compare?
"David, my servant, whom I chose
To guard my flock, to crush my foes,
And raised him to the Jewish throne,
Was but a shadow of my Son."
Now let the church rejoice and sing
Jesus, her Savior and her King;
Angels his heav'nly wonders show,
And saints declare his works below.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 21
It is narrated that an oppressor of the people, a soldier, hit the head of a pious man with a stone and that the dervish, having no means of taking vengeance, preserved the stone till the time arrived when the king became angry with that soldier, and imprisoned him in a well. Then the dervish made his appearance and dropped the stone upon his head. He asked: "Who art thou, and why hast thou hit my head with this stone?" The man replied: "I am the same person whom thou hast struck on the head with this stone on such and such a day." The soldier continued: "Where hast thou been all this time?" The dervish replied: "I was afraid of thy dignity but now when I beheld thee in the well I made use of the opportunity."’
When thou seest an unworthy man in good luck
Intelligent men have chosen submission.
If thou hast not a tearing sharp nail
It will be better not to contend with the wicked.
Who grasps with his fist one who has an arm of steel
Injures only his own powerless wrist.
Wait till inconstant fortune ties his hand.
Then, to please thy friends, pick out his brains.
The Three Enemies
THE FLESH
"Sweet, thou art pale."
"More pale to see,
Christ hung upon the cruel tree
And bore His Father's wrath for me."
"Sweet, thou art sad."
"Beneath a rod
More heavy, Christ for my sake trod
The winepress of the wrath of God."
"Sweet, thou art weary."
"Not so Christ:
Whose mighty love of me suffic'd
For Strength, Salvation, Eucharist."
"Sweet, thou art footsore."
"If I bleed,
His feet have bled; yea in my need
His Heart once bled for mine indeed."
THE WORLD
"Sweet, thou art young."
"So He was young
Who for my sake in silence hung
Upon the Cross with Passion wrung."
"Look, thou art fair."
"He was more fair
Than men, Who deign'd for me to wear
A visage marr'd beyond compare."
"And thou hast riches."
"Daily bread:
All else is His: Who, living, dead,
For me lack'd where to lay His Head."
"And life is sweet."
"It was not so
To Him, Whose Cup did overflow
With mine unutterable woe."
THE DEVIL
"Thou drinkest deep."
"When Christ would sup
He drain'd the dregs from out my cup:
So how should I be lifted up?"
"Thou shalt win Glory."
"In the skies,
Lord Jesus, cover up mine eyes
Lest they should look on vanities."
"Thou shalt have Knowledge."
"Helpless dust!
In Thee, O Lord, I put my trust:
Answer Thou for me, Wise and Just."
"And Might."--
"Get thee behind me. Lord,
Who hast redeem'd and not abhorr'd
My soul, oh keep it by Thy Word."
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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The Death of Sir James, Lord of Douglas
"Men may weill wyt, thouch nane thaim tell,
How angry for sorow, and how fell,
Is to tyne sic a Lord as he
To thaim that war off hys mengye.’
- Barbour's Bruce, B. XX. i. 507.
Where rich Seville's proud turrets rise
A foreign ship at anchor lies;
The pennons, floating in the air,
Proclaim that one of rank is there-—
The Douglas, with a gallant band
Of warriors, seeks the Holy Land.
But wherefore now the trumpet's bray,
The clang of arms and war’s array,
The atabal and martial drum?
The Moor—the infidel is come;
And there is Sultan Osmyn—see!
With all his Paynim chivalry;
And they have sworn to glut their steel
With the best blood of fair Castile.
"And do we here inactive stand?"
The Douglas cries; "Land! comrades, land!"
Then for the Christian camp he makes,
When thus Alphonso silence breaks:
"What news from Scotland do you bring;
And where is now your patriot king?"
"Alas! within this casket lies
The heart so valiant, good, and wise,
This to the Holy Land we bear,
For we have sworn to lay it there.
But let us forward to the fight,
And God protect the Christian right!"
To whom Alphonso—"Scottish lord,
That now for Spain cost draw that sword,
The terror of thy English foes,
When for her freedom Scotland rose;
With knights like thee and thy brave band
We’ll drive the Moslem from the land."
The Douglas thus his comrades cheers—
"Be brave! and as for him that fears,
Let the base coward turn and fly,
For we will gain the day, or die.
Now couch the trusty Scottish spear,
And think King Robert’s heart is here,
And boldly charge—already, see
The dogs of Moslems turn and flee."
At the first onset, with the slain
Those valiant warriors strew the plain;
But, hark! the Allah Hu! the foes
Rally, and hot the combat grows,
For here the Spaniards yield, and there
The Moors have slain the brave St. Clair.
Then, midst the thickest of his foes,
The precious casket Douglas throws—
"Pass on before us" hear him cry,
"For I will follow thee, or die."
He rushes on—but all in vain,
For thicker comes the arrowy rain;
And now, by multitudes opprest,
With many a wound upon his breast,
Where ’midst the slain the casket lies,
A noble death the Douglas dies.
poem by James Clerk Maxwell
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Sir Lancelot Du Lake
When Arthur first in court began,
And was approvèd king,
By force of armes great victorys wonne,
And conquest home did bring;
Then into England straight he came
With fifty good and able
Knights that resorted unto him,
And were of the Round Table.
And many justs and turnaments
Whereto were many prest,
Wherein some knights did farr excell,
And eke surmount the rest.
But one Sir Lancelot du Lake,
Who was approvèd well,
He for his deeds and feates of armes
All others did excell.
When he had rested him a while,
In play, and game, and sportt,
He said he wold goe prove himselfe,
In some adventurous sort.
He armèd rode in forrest wide,
And met a damsell faire,
Who told him of adventures great,
Whereto he gave good care.
"Why shold I not?" quoth Lancelott tho,
"For that cause came I hither."
"Thou seemst," quoth she, "a knight full good,"
And I will bring thee thither,
"Wheras a mighty knight doth dwell,
That now is of great fame;
Therefore tell me what knight thou art,
And what may be thy name."
"My name is Lancelot du Lake."
Quoth she, "It likes me than;
Here dwelles a knight who never was
Yet matcht with any man;
"Who has in prison threescore knights
And four, that he did wound;
Knights of King Arthurs court they be,
And of his Table Round."
She brought him to a river side,
And also to a tree,
Whereon a copper bason hung,
And many shields to see.
He struck soe hard, the bason broke:
And Tarquin soon he spyed:
Who drove a horse before him fast,
Whereon a knight lay tyed.
"Sir Knight," then sayd Sir Lancelòtt,
"Bring me that horse-load hither,
And lay him downe, and let him rest;
Weel try our force together.
"For, as I understand, thou hast,
Soe far as thou art able,
Done great despite and shame unto
The knights of the Round Table."
"If thou be of the Table Round,"
Quoth Tarquin, speedilye,
"Both thee and all thy fellowship
I utterly defye."
"That's over much," quoth Lancelott tho,
"Defend thee by and by."
They sett their speares unto their steeds,
And each att other flye.
They coucht their speares, (their horses ran,
As though there had been thunder);
And strucke them each immidst their shields,
Wherewith they broke in sunder.
Their horsses backes brake under them,
The knights were both astound;
To avoyd their horsses they made great haste,
And light upon the ground.
They tooke them to their shields full fast,
Their swords they drew out than;
With mighty strokes most eagerlye
Each at the other ran.
They wounded were, and bled full sore,
They both for breath did stand,
And leaning on their swordes awhile,
Quoth Tarquine, "Hold thy hand,
"And tell to me what I shall aske;"
"Say on," quoth Lancelot tho.
"Thou art," quoth Tarquine, "the best knight
That ever I did know;
"And like a knight that I did hate;
Soe that thou be not hee,
I will deliver all the rest,
And eke accord with thee."
"That is well sayd," quoth Lancelott tho,
"But sith it must be soe,
What knight is that thou hatest thus?
I pray thee to meshow."
"His name is Lancelot du Lake,
He slew my brother deere;
Him I suspect of all the rest:
I would I had him here."
"Thy wish thou hast, but yet unknowne;
I am Lancelot du Lake,
Now knight of Arthurs Table Round;
King Hauds son of Schuwake;
"And I desire thee do thy worst."
"Ho, ho," quoth Tarquin tho,
"One of us two shall end our lives,
Before that we do go.
"If thou be Lancelot du Lake
Then welcome shalt thou bee;
Wherfore see thou thyself defend,
For now defye I thee."
They buckled then together so,
Like unto wild boares rashing,
And with their swords and shields they ran
At one another slashing.
The ground besprinkled was with blood,
Tarquin began to yield;
For he gave backe for wearinesse,
And lowe did beare his shield.
This soone Sir Lancelot espyde,
He leapt upon him then,
He pull'd him downe upon his knee,
And rushing off his helm,
Forthwith he strucke his necke in two;
And when he had soe done,
From prison, threescore knights and four
Delivered everye one.
poem by Thomas Percy
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Cold Iron
Gold is for the mistress -- silver for the maid --
Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.
"Good!" said the Baron, sitting in his hall,
"But Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of them all."
So he made rebellion 'gainst the King his liege,
Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege.
"Nay!" said the cannoneer on the castle wall,
"But Iron -- Cold Iron -- shall be master of you all!"
Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong,
When the cruel cannon-balls laid 'em all along;
He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall,
And Iron -- Cold Iron -- was master of it all!
Yet his King spake kindly (ah, how kind a Lord!)
"What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?"
"Nay!" said the Baron, "mock not at my fall,
For Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of men all."
Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown --
Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown.
"As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small,
For Iron -- Cold Iron -- must be master of men all!"
Yet his King made answer (few such Kings there be!)
"Here is Bread and here is Wine -- sit and sup with me.
Eat and drink in Mary's Name, the whiles I do recall
How Iron -- Cold Iron -- can be master of men all!"
He took the Wine and blessed it. He blessed and brake the Bread,
With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said:
"See! These Hands they pierced with nails, outside My city wall,
Show Iron -- Cold Iron -- to be master of men all."
"Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong.
Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong.
I forgive thy treason -- I redeem thy fall --
For Iron -- Cold Iron -- must be master of men all!"
Crowns are for the valiant -- sceptres for the bold!
Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold.
"Nay!" said the Baron, kneeling in his hall,
"But Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of men all!
Iron out of Calvary is master of men all!"
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Hymn XXVI: I Thirst, Thou Wounded Lamb of God
I thirst, thou wounded Lamb of God,
To wash me in thy cleansing blood,
To dwell within thy wounds; then pain
Is sweet, and life or death is gain.
Take my poor heart, and let it be
For ever closed to all but thee!
Seal thou my breast, and let me we;
That pledge of love for ever there!
How blest are they who still abide
Close sheltered in thy bleeding side,
Who life and strength from thence derive,
And by thee move, and in thee live.
What are our works but sin and death,
Till thou thy quickening Spirit breathe!
Thou giv'st the power thy grace to move;
O wondrous grace! O boundless love!
How can it be, thou heavenly King,
That thou shouldst us to glory bring?
Make slaves the partners of thy throne,
Decked with a never-fading crown?
Hence our hearts melt, our eyes o'erflow,
Our words are lost; nor will we know,
Nor will we think of aught beside,
"My Lord, my Love is crucified."
Ah, Lord! enlarge our scanty thought,
To know the wonders thou hast wrought;
Unloose our stammering tongues, to tell
Thy love immense, unsearchable.
First-born of many brethren thou!
To thee, lo! all our souls we bow:
To thee our hearts and hands we give:
Thine may we die, thine may we live!
poem by John Wesley
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The Peace of Dives
1903
The Word came down to Dives in Torment where he lay:
"Our World is full of wickedness, My Children maim and slay,
"And the Saint and Seer and Prophet
"Can make no better of it
"Than to sanctify and prophesy and pray.
"Rise up, rise up, thou Dives, and take again thy gold,
"And thy women and thy housen as they were to thee of old.
"It may be grace hath found thee
"In the furnace where We bound thee,
"And that thou shalt bring the peace My Son foretold."
Then merrily rose Dives and leaped from out his fire,
And walked abroad with diligence to do the Lord's desire;
And anon the battles ceased,
And the captives were released,
And Earth had rest from Goshen to Gadire.
The Word came down to Satan that raged and roared alone,
'Mid rhe shouring of the peoples by the cannon overthrown
(But the Prophets, Saints, and Seers
Set each other by the ears,
For each would claim the marvel as his own):
"Rise up, rise up, thou Satan, upon the Earth to go,
"And prove the Peace of Dives if it be good or no:
"For all that he hath planned
"We deliver to thy hand,
"As thy skill shall serve, to break it or bring low."
Then mightily rose Satan, and about the Earth he hied,
And breathed on Kings in idleness and Princes drunk with pride.
But for all the wrong he breathed
There was never sword unsheathed,
And the fires he lighted flickered out and died.
Then terribly 'rose Satan, and darkened Earth afar,
Till he came on cunning Dives where the money-changers are;
And he saw men pledge their gear
For the bold that buys the spear,
And the helmet and the habergeon of war.
Yea, to Dives came the Persian and the Syrian and the Mede --
And their hearts were nothing altered, nor their cunning nor their greed --
And they pledged their flocks and farms
For the King-compelling arms,
And Dives lent according to their need.
Then Satan said to Dives: -- "Return again with me,
"Who hast broken His Commandment in the day He set thee free,
"Who grindest for thy greed
"Man's belly-pinch and need,
"And the blood of Man to filthy usury!"
Then softly answered Dives where the money-changers sit: --
"My Refuge is Our Master, O My Master in the Pit.
"But behold all Earth is laid
"In the Peace which I have made,
"And behold I wait on thee to trouble it!"
Then angrily turned Satan, and about the Seas he fled,
To shake the new-sown peoples with insult, doubt, and dread;
But, for all the sleight he used,
There was never squadron loosed,
And the brands he flung flew dying and fell dead.
But to Dives came Atlantis and the Captains of the West --
And their hates were nothing weakened nor their angers unrest --
And they pawned their utmost trade
For the dry, decreeing blade;
And Dives lent and took of them their best.
Then Satan said to Dives: -- "Declare thou by The Name,
"The secret of thy subtlety that turneth mine to shame.
"It is knowvn through all the Hells
"How my peoples mocked my spells,
"And my faithless Kings denied me ere I came."
Then answvered cunning Dives: "Do not gold and hate abide
"At the heart of every Magic, yea, and senseless fear beside?
"With gold and fear and hate
"I have harnessed state to state,
"And by hate and fear and gold their hates are tied.
"For hate men seek a weapon, for fear they seek a shield --
"Keener blades and broader targes than their frantic neighbours wield --
"For gold I arm their hands,
"And for gold I buy their lands,
"And for gold I sell their enemies the yield.
"Their nearest foes may purchase, or their furthest friends may lease,
"One by one from Ancient Accad to the Islands of the Seas.
"And their covenants they make
"For the naked iron's sake,
"But I -- I trap them armoured into peace.
"The flocks that Egypt pledged me to Assyria I drave,
"And Pharaoh hath the increase of the herds that Sargon gave.
"Not for Ashdod overthrown
"Will the Kings destroy their own,
"Or their peoples wake the strife they feign to brave.
"Is not Carchemish like Calno? For the steeds of their desire
"They have sold me seven harvests that I sell to Crowning Tyre;
"And the Tyrian sweeps the plains
"With a thousand hired wains,
"And the Cities keep the peace and -- share the hire.
"Hast thou seen the pride of Moab? For the swords about his path,
"His bond is to Philistia, in half of all he hath.
"And he dare not draw the sword
"Till Gaza give the word,
"And he show release from Askalon and Gath.
"Wilt thou call again thy peoples, wilt thou craze anew thy Kings?
"Lo! my lightnings pass before thee, and their whistling servant brings,
"Ere the drowsy street hath stirred,
"Every masked and midnight word,
"And the nations break their fast upon these things.
"So I make a jest of Wonder, and a mock of Time and Space,
"The roofless Seas an hostel, and the Earth a market-place,
"Where the anxious traders know
"Each is surety for his foe,
"And none may thrive without his fellows' grace.
"Now this is all my subtlety and this is all my Wit,
"God give thee good enlightenment. My Master in the Pit.
"But behold all Earth is laid
"In the Peace which I have made,
"And behold I wait on thee to trouble it!"
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The New Knighthood
Who gives him the Bath?
"I," said the wet,
Rank-Jungle-sweat,
"I'll give him the Bath!"
Who'll sing the psalms?
"We," said the Palms.
"Ere the hot wind becalms,
"We'll sing the psalms."
Who lays on the sword ?
"I," said the Sun,
Before he has done,
"I'll lay on the sword."
"Who fastens his belt?
"I," said Short-Rations,
" I know all the fashions
"Of tightening a belt!"
Who gives him his spur?
"I," said his Chief,
Exacting and brief,
"I'll give him the spur."
Who'll shake his hand?
"I," said the Fever,
"And I'm no deceiver,
"I'll shake his hand."
Who brings him the wine?
"I," said Quinine,
"It's a habit of mine.
"I'11 come with his wine."
Who'll put him to proof?
"I," said All Earth.
"Whatever he's worth,
"I'll put to the proof."
Who'll choose him for Knight?
"I," said his Mother,
"Before any other,
"My very own Knight."
And after this fashion, adventure to seek,
Sir Galahad was made--as it might be last week!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Genesis BK XVII
(ll. 1002-1005) Then the Lord of glory spake unto Cain, and asked
where Abel was. Quickly the cursed fashioner of death made
answer unto Him:
(ll. 1006-1008) "I know not the coming or going of Abel, my
kinsman, his lot or portion; I was not my brother's keeper."
(ll. 1008-1021) And the Gracious Spirit, Lord of angels, made
answer unto him: "Why hast thou slain that faithful man thy
brother in thy wrath, and his blood calleth and crieth unto Me?
Accursed for ever, driven into exile, thou shalt be punished for
this deed of death! The earth shall not yield thee of her
pleasant fruits for thy daily need, but by thy hands her soil is
stained with holy blood. Therefore the green earth shall
withhold from thee her beauty and her delights. In sadness and
dishonour shalt thou depart from thy home, because thou hast
slain thy brother, Abel. Loathed of thy kinsmen, an exile and a
fugitive, shalt thou wander on the face of the earth."
(ll. 1022-1035) And Cain made answer unto Him: ...."I need not
look for pity in this world, High King of heaven, for I have lost
Thy love and favour and goodwill. Weary the ways my feet must
wander, in dread of woe, whenever one shall meet me in my guilt,
near or far, and by his hate remind me of my brother's death. I
shed his blood and poured his life-blood on the ground. From
this day hast Thou cut me off from good! Thou scourgest me from
home! Some cruel foe shall slay me. And I must needs go forth,
accursed, from Thy sight, O Lord!"
(ll. 1036-1043) And the Lord of victory said unto him: "Thou
needest not yet dread death, nor the pangs of death, though thou
shalt wander, far from kinsmen, with thy doom upon thee. If any
man shall slay thee with his hands, on him shall fall a
seven-fold vengeance, and torment for that deed of sin."
(ll. 1043-1054) And God, the Lord of glory, set a mark upon him
and a token, lest any foe from far or near should dare to lift
his hand against him; and He bade him go forth in his guilt from
mother and kinsmen and from all his tribe. Then with despairing
heart, a friendless exile, Cain departed out of the sight of God,
and chose a home and dwelling in the eastern lands, far from his
father's house; and there a comely maiden bare him children after
his kind.
(ll. 1055-1073) Enoch was first-born of the sons of Cain. He
built a city with his kinsmen, the first of all those strongholds
under heaven which sword-girt men established; and in the city
sons were born to him. Irad was first-born of the sons of Enoch;
and he begat children, and all the tribe and race of Cain
increased. And after Irad Mahalaleel was warden of the treasure,
in his father's stead, until he died. Then Methusael dispensed
the treasure to his brothers and his kinsmen, man for man, till,
full of many years, he died.
(ll. 1073-1081) And at his father's death Lamech succeeded to the
treasure and the household goods. Two wives bare children to him
in his home, Adah and Zillah. Now one of the sons of Lamech was
called Jabal; and he was first of all men by his skill to stir
the harp to music and its strings to song.
Remarks About Kings
"God said I am tired of kings." -- EMERSON
God said, "I am tired of kings,"--
But that was a long while ago!
And meantime man said, "No,--
I like their looks in their robes and rings."
So he crowned a few more,
And they went on playing the game as before,
Fighting and spoiling things.
Man said, "I am tired of kings!
Sons of the robber-chiefs of yore,
They make me pay for their lust and their war;
I am the puppet, they pull the strings;
The blood of my heart is the wine they drink.
I will govern myself for awhile I think,
And see what that brings!"
Then God, who made the first remark,
Smiled in the dark.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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Jerusalem Delivered - Book 02 - part 03
XXI
It was amazement, wonder and delight,
Although not love, that moved his cruel sense;
"Tell on," quoth he, "unfold the chance aright,
Thy people's lives I grant for recompense."
Then she, "Behold the faulter here in sight,
This hand committed that supposed offence,
I took the image, mine that fault, that fact,
Mine be the glory of that virtuous act."
XXII
This spotless lamb thus offered up her blood,
To save the rest of Christ's selected fold,
O noble lie! was ever truth so good?
Blest be the lips that such a leasing told:
Thoughtful awhile remained the tyrant wood,
His native wrath he gan a space withhold,
And said, "That thou discover soon I will,
What aid? what counsel had'st thou in that ill?"
XXIII
"My lofty thoughts," she answered him, "envied
Another's hand should work my high desire,
The thirst of glory can no partner bide,
With mine own self I did alone conspire."
"On thee alone," the tyrant then replied,
"Shall fall the vengeance of my wrath and ire."
" `Tis just and right," quoth she, "I yield consent,
Mine be the honor, mine the punishment."
XXIV
The wretch of new enraged at the same,
Asked where she hid the image so conveyed:
"Not hid," quoth she, "but quite consumed with flame,
The idol is of that eternal maid,
For so at least I have preserved the same,
With hands profane from being eft betrayed.
My Lord, the thing thus stolen demand no more,
Here see the thief that scorneth death therefor.
XXV
"And yet no theft was this, yours was the sin,
I brought again what you unjustly took."
This heard, the tyrant did for rage begin
To whet his teeth, and bend his frowning look,
No pity, youth; fairness, no grace could win;
Joy, comfort, hope, the virgin all forsook;
Wrath killed remorse, vengeance stopped mercy's breath
Love's thrall to hate, and beauty's slave to death.
XXVI
Ta'en was the damsel, and without remorse,
The king condemned her guiltless to the fire,
Her veil and mantle plucked they off by force,
And bound her tender arms in twisted wire:
Dumb was the silver dove, while from her corse
These hungry kites plucked off her rich attire,
And for some deal perplexed was her sprite,
Her damask late, now changed to purest white.
XXVII
The news of this mishap spread far and near,
The people ran, both young and old, to gaze;
Olindo also ran, and gan to fear
His lady was some partner in this case;
But when he found her bound, stript from her gear,
And vile tormentors ready saw in place,
He broke the throng, and into presence brast;
And thus bespake the king in rage and haste:
XXXVIII
"Not so, not so this grief shall bear away
From me the honor of so noble feat,
She durst not, did not, could not so convey
The massy substance of that idol great,
What sleight had she the wardens to betray?
What strength to heave the goddess form her seat?
No, no, my Lord, she sails but with my wind."
Ah, thus he loved, yet was his love unkind!
XXIX
He added further: "Where the shining glass,
Lets in the light amid your temple's side,
By broken by-ways did I inward pass,
And in that window made a postern wide,
Nor shall therefore this ill-advised lass
Usurp the glory should this fact betide,
Mine be these bonds, mine be these flames so pure,
O glorious death, more glorious sepulture!"
XXX
Sophronia raised her modest looks from ground,
And on her lover bent her eyesight mild,
"Tell me, what fury? what conceit unsound
Presenteth here to death so sweet a child?
Is not in me sufficient courage found,
To bear the anger of this tyrant wild?
Or hath fond love thy heart so over-gone?
Wouldst thou not live, nor let me die alone?"
poem by Torquato Tasso
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Sonnet LIX: As Love and I
As Love and I, late harbor'd in one inn,
With proverbs thus each other entertain:
"In Love there is no lack," thus I begin;
"Fair words make fools," replieth he again;
"Who spares to speak doth spare to speed," quoth I;
"As well," saith he, "too forward as too slow";
"Fortune assists the boldest," I reply;
"A hasty man," quoth he, "ne'er wanted woe";
"Labor is light where Love," quoth I, "doth pay";
Saith he, "Light burden's heavy, if far borne";
Quoth I, "The main lost, cast the bye away";
"You have spun a fair thread," he replies in scorn.
And having thus awhile each other thwarted,
Fools as we met, so fools again we parted.
poem by Michael Drayton
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Young Henry
Air -- "Drummer Boy of Waterloo"
Young Henry was as faithful boy
As ever stood on the American soil,
And he did enlist, without a doubt,
When the rebellion was broke out.
He was his parents' only son,
And only child he was but one,
That was a girl aged seventeen,
Henry called her his May Queen.
Young Henry said, "Dear sister May,
What do you think my friends will say?
For now my name is on the roll,
And I down south will have to go."
"I hear my country's call," said he,
"For all her sons of liberty,
And I, forever, will prove true
To that dear old flag, red, white and blue."
"I love my father and mother dear,
I leave you, May, their hearts to cheer;
When I am gone, pray do not mourn
If I should never return home."
His sister then to him did say,
"My only brother, blithe and gay,
Our country calls, calls from afar;
May God protect you through the war."
Their father hearing all was said,
It made his noble heart grow sad;
"My children, I love both of you,
And yet I love my country, too."
"My son, if I was young again,
I never could at home remain,
And see my native land, now free,
Dissolved and made in slavery."
Young Henry left his father's home,
And left his friends for him to mourn,
A captain of a little band,
He marched away from Michigan.
In the battle of Fredericksburg,
Above the battle roar was heard,
"Fight on! fight on! brave boys," he cried,
"I am shot and wounded, and must die."
They placed his head upon the grass,
So he could see his brave boys pass;
"Go tell my father, Henry's slain
To keep him from the rebel's chain."
They dug his grave beneath that spot,
They wrapped him in his soldier's coat,
And while the battle drums they heard,
They laid him low at Fredericksburg.
poem by Julia A Moore
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The Division Of The Earth
"Take the world!" Zeus exclaimed from his throne in the skies
To the children of man--"take the world I now give;
It shall ever remain as your heirloom and prize,
So divide it as brothers, and happily live."
Then all who had hands sought their share to obtain,
The young and the aged made haste to appear;
The husbandman seized on the fruits of the plain,
The youth through the forest pursued the fleet deer.
The merchant took all that his warehouse could hold,
The abbot selected the last year's best wine,
The king barred the bridges,--the highways controlled,
And said, "Now remember, the tithes shall be mine!"
But when the division long-settled had been,
The poet drew nigh from a far distant land;
But alas! not a remnant was now to be seen,
Each thing on the earth owned a master's command.
"Alas! shall then I, of thy sons the most true,--
Shall I, 'mongst them all, be forgotten alone?"
Thus loudly he cried in his anguish, and threw
Himself in despair before Jupiter's throne.
"If thou in the region of dreams didst delay,
Complain not of me," the Immortal replied;
"When the world was apportioned, where then wert thou, pray?"
"I was," said the poet, "I was--by thy side!"
"Mine eye was then fixed on thy features so bright,
Mine ear was entranced by thy harmony's power;
Oh, pardon the spirit that, awed by thy light,
All things of the earth could forget in that hour!"
"What to do?" Zeus exclaimed,--"for the world has been given;
The harvest, the market, the chase, are not free;
But if thou with me wilt abide in my heaven,
Whenever thou comest, 'twill be open to thee!"
poem by Friedrich Schiller
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Vashti
She leaned her head upon her hand
And heard the King's decree --
"My lords are feasting in my halls;
Bid Vashti come to me.
"I've shown the treasures of my house,
My costly jewels rare,
But with the glory of her eyes
No rubies can compare.
"Adorn'd and crown'd I'd have her come,
With all her queenly grace,
And, 'mid my lords and mighty men,
Unveil her lovely face.
"Each gem that sparkles in my crown,
Or glitters on my throne,
Grows poor and pale when she appears,
My beautiful, my own!"
All waiting stood the chamberlains
To hear the Queen's reply.
They saw her cheek grow deathly pale,
But light flash'd to her eye:
"Go, tell the King," she proudly said,
"That I am Persia's Queen,
And by his crowds of merry men
I never will be seen.
"I'll take the crown from off my head
And tread it 'neath my feet,
Before their rude and careless gaze
My shrinking eyes shall meet.
"A queen unveil'd before the crowd! --
Upon each lip my name! --
Why, Persia's women all would blush
And weep for Vashti's shame!
"Go back!" she cried, and waved her hand,
And grief was in her eye:
"Go, tell the King," she sadly said,
"That I would rather die."
They brought her message to the King;
Dark flash'd his angry eye;
'Twas as the lightning ere the storm
Hath swept in fury by.
Then bitterly outspoke the King,
Through purple lips of wrath --
"What shall be done to her who dares
To cross your monarch's path?"
Then spake his wily counsellors --
"O King of this fair land!
From distant Ind to Ethiop,
All bow to thy command.
"But if, before thy servants' eyes,
This thing they plainly see,
That Vashti doth not heed thy will
Nor yield herself to thee,
"The women, restive 'neath our rule,
Would learn to scorn our name,
And from her deed to us would come
Reproach and burning shame.
"Then, gracious King, sign with thy hand
This stern but just decree,
That Vashti lay aside her crown,
Thy Queen no more to be."
She heard again the King's command,
And left her high estate;
Strong in her earnest womanhood,
She calmly met her fate,
And left the palace of the King,
Proud of her spotless name --
A woman who could bend to grief,
But would not bow to shame.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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The Battle of Shina, in Africa, Fought in 1800
King Shuac, the Giant of Mizra, war did declare
Against Ulva, King of Shina, telling him to prepare
And be ready for to meet him in the fight,
Which would commence the next morning before daylight.
When King Ulva heard the news, he told his warriors to prepare,
Then suddenly the clatter of arms sounded in the night air;
And the pale beams of the moon shone on coats of mail,
But not one bosom beneath them with fear did quail.
And bugles rang out their hoarse call,
And armed men gathered quickly, not in dread of their downfall;
For King Ulva resolved to go and meet Shuac,
So, by doing so, King Ulva's men courage didn't lack.
Therefore, the temple was lighted up anew,
And filled with armed warriors, bold and true;
And the King stood clad in his armour, and full of pride,
As he gazed upon his warriors, close by his side.
And he bowed himself to the ground,
While there was a deep silence around;
And he swore, by his false god of the all-seeing eye,
That he would meet Shuac, King of Mizra, and make him fly.
And I swear that in Shina peace shall remain,
And whatever thou desireth, supreme one, will not be in vain;
For thou shalt get what thou considereth to be most fit,
Though it be of my own flesh and blood, I swear it.
Then, when all was in readiness, they marched before the dawn,
Sixty thousand in number, and each a picked man;
And they marched on silently to take Shuac's army by surprise,
And attack him if possible, before sunrise.
King Shuac's army were about one hundred thousand strong,
And, when King Ulva heard so, he cried, We'll conquer them ere long,
Therefore, march on, brave men, we'll meet them before daybreak,
So, be resolute and conquer, and fight for Shina's sake.
Within a mile of the enemy's camp they lay all night,
Scarcely taking well-earned repose, they were so eager for the fight;
And when the morning broke clear and cloudless, with a burning sky,
Each warrior was wishing that the fight was begun.
And as the armies neared one another, across the fertile land,
It was a most imposing sight, and truly grand,
To see the warriors clad in armour bright,
Especially the form of Shuac, in the midst of the fight.
The royal guard, forming the vanguard, made the first attack,
Under the command of King Ulva, who courage didn't lack;
And cries of "King Ulva!" and "King Shuac!" rent the air,
While Shuac cried, I'll burn Shina to the ground, I now do swear!
King Shuac was mounted on a powerful steed,
Which pressed its way through the ranks with lightning speed;
And with its hoofs the earth it uptears,
Until, with a bound, it dashes through the ranks of opposing spears.
Then the two Kings met each other at last,
And fire flashed from their weapons, and blows fell fast;
But Shuac was the strongest of the two,
But King Ulva was his match with the club, Ulva knew.
Then, with his club, he gave Shuac a blow, which wounded him deep,
Crying out, Shuac, thy blood is deserting thee! thou art a sheep!
Cried Ulva, dealing him another fearful blow,
Then Shuac raised his club and rushed on his foe.
Then his blow fell, and knocked Ulva's club from his hand,
While both armies in amazement stand
To watch the hand-to-hand fight,
While Shuac's warriors felt great delight.
But there chanced to be a Scotchman in Ulva's army,
That had a loaded pistol, and he fired it immediately,
And shot King Shuac through the head,
And he toppled over to the ground killed stone dead!
Then the men of Mizra laid down their arms and fled
When they saw that their King was killed dead;
Then King Ulva said to the Scotchman, I am thy servant for ever,
For to thee I owe my life, and nought but death will us sever.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 18
A royal prince, having inherited abundant treasures from his father, opened the hand of liberality and satisfied his impulse of generosity by lavishing without stint benefits upon the army and the population.
A tray of lignum aloes will emit no odour.
Place it on fire, it will smell like ambergris.
If thou wishest to be accounted great, be liberal
Because grain will not grow unless it be sown.
One of his courtiers began heedlessly to admonish him, saying: "Former kings have by their exertions accumulated this wealth and deposited it for a useful purpose. Cease this movement because calamities may arise in front and enemies in the rear. It is not meet for thee to be helpless at a time of necessity."
If thou distributest a treasure to the multitude
Each householder will receive a grain of rice.
Why takest thou not from each a barley-corn of silver
That thou mayest accumulate every day a treasure?
The royal prince turned away his face at these words and said: "God the most high has made me the possessor of this country, to enjoy and to bestow, not to guard and to retain."
Qarun, who possessed forty treasure houses, perished. Nushirvan has not died because he obtained a good reputation.
Hymn 28
The triumph of Christ over the enemies of his church.
Isa. 63:1-3, etc.
What mighty man, or mighty God,
Comes travelling in state,
Along the Idumean road,
Away from Bozrah's gate?
The glory of his robes proclaim
'Tis some victorious king:
"'Tis I, the Just, th' Almighty One,
That your salvation bring."
"Why, mighty Lord," thy saints inquire,
"Why thine apparel's red?
And all thy vesture stained like those
Who in the wine-press tread?"
"I by myself have trod the press,
And crushed my foes alone;
My wrath has struck the rebels dead,
My fury stamped them down.
"'Tis Edom's blood that dyes my robes
With joyful scarlet stains;
The triumph that my raiment wears
Sprung from their bleeding veins.
"Thus shall the nations be destroyed
That dare insult my saints;
I have an arm t' avenge their wrongs,
An ear for their complaints."
poem by Isaac Watts
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