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King Arthur's Men Have Come Again

[Written while a field-worker in the Anti-Saloon League of Illinois.]

King Arthur's men have come again.
They challenge everywhere
The foes of Christ's Eternal Church.
Her incense crowns the air.
The heathen knighthood cower and curse
To hear the bugles ring,
But spears are set, the charge is on,
Wise Arthur shall be king!

And Cromwell's men have come again,
I meet them in the street.
Stern but in this — no way of thorns
Shall snare the children's feet.
The reveling foemen wreak but waste,
A sodden poisonous band.
Fierce Cromwell builds the flower-bright towns,
And a more sunlit land!

And Lincoln's men have come again.
Up from the South he flayed,
The grandsons of his foes arise
In his own cause arrayed.
They rise for freedom and clean laws
High laws, that shall endure.
Our God establishes his arm
And makes the battle sure!

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Le Morte d'Arthur (Cavatina Sequence)

(after Sir Thomas Mallory)

With his breastplate shattered he limped
among the dead,
all of his heroic friends were now gone,
around him spread
lay good, great, honest men, the very best,
and up ahead
swords clattered, the sun shone as always,
but he only saw its fading dying rays,

yet to some men King Arthur is not dead
and rise he will
by the great power of Jesus they say,
Arthur lives still
in their hearts as the once and future king
to from great ill
rid the world, I will only further say
that Arthur was a great man in his day.

[References: 'Le morte d'Arthur' by Sir Thomas Mallory. 'But many men say there is written upon his tomb this verse: HIC IACET ARTHURUS, REX QUONDUM REXQUE FUTURUS 'Here lies Arthur, the once and future king.'' From 'Le morte d'Arthur' by Sir Thomas Mallory.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Merlin

He appears to be just a regular guy,
But Merlin, he is not like you or I.
His main duty is to serve the King,
And for him, he would do anything.

Merlin possesses a happy disposition;
To protect King Arthur is his mission.
When he is given any task or a quest,
Merlin will endeavour to do his best.

Gaius, the physician, is Merlin's mentor:
His wise words should not be ignored.
Life can be a challenge for this Warlock:
For he is often working against the clock.

Merlin has met with many mystical creatures:
Some of them possess many grotesque features.
Others of them are beautiful beyond belief;
Some bring wisdom, while others bring grief.

That Merlin is daft, the King often pretends,
But the two of them are really good friends.
Merlin and his master share a strong bond;
Of Merlin, King Arthur is secretly fond.

Many a time, he's saved Arthur from death:
Saved Queen Guinevere from feeling bereft.
When he casts spells, his eyes burn bright:
It is then he makes sure he stays out of sight.

With magic, Merlin often saves the day,
But his magical powers, he hides away.
When the King is in trouble, Merlin's at his side;
About how he saved the day, he has often lied.

Neither witchcraft, nor magic, can the King stand:
From the kingdom of Camelot, they are both banned.
Merlin's magical gifts must never be revealed:
If they ever were, his fate would be sealed.

poem by Angela Wybrow
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The King of our Republic

He is coming! He is coming! without heralds, without cheers.
He is coming! He is coming! and he’s been with us for years:
And, if you should pause to wonder who’s the man of whom I sing—
’Tis the King of our Republic, and the man we shall call King.
No, he comes not to amuse us, and he comes not to explain,
With the bathos of the old things over all the land again.
The debatable and tangled, and the vain imagining
Shall be swept out of our pathway by the man that we’ll call King.

He is coming! He is coming! He has heard our spirit call;
He’ll be greatest man since Cromwell in the English nations all,
And he’ll take his place amongst us while the rest are wondering—
Shall the King of our Republic, and the man we will call King.

If you find him stern, unyielding, where his living task is set,
I have told you that a tyrant shall uplift the nation yet;
He will place his country’s welfare over all and everything,
Shall the King of our Republic, and the man that we’ll call King.

Yet his heart shall still be gentle with his brothers gone astray,
For the Great Man of Australia shall be simple in his day—
Modest, kindly, but unyielding, while the watching world shall ring
With the name of our Republic and the man that we call King.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Sonnet XVI: Cromwell, our chief of men

To the Lord General Cromwell

On the Proposals of Certain Ministers of the Committee
for the Propagation of the Gospel

Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud
Not of war only, but detractions rude,
Guided by faith and matchless fortitude,
To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed,
And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud
Hast reared God's trophies, and his work pursued,
While Darwen stream with blood of Scots imbrued,
And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud,
And Worcester's laureate wreath. Yet much remains
To conquer still; peace hath her victories
No less renowned than war: new foes arise,
Threat'ning to bind our souls with secular chains:
Help us to save free conscience from the paw
Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw.

poem by John Milton
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Psalm 27 part 1

v.1-6
C. M.
The church is our delight and safety.

The Lord of glory is my light,
And my salvation too;
God is my strength, nor will I fear
What all my foes can do.

One privilege my heart desires;
O grant me an abode
Among the churches of thy saints,
The temples of my God!

There shall I offer my requests,
And see thy beauty still;
Shall hear thy messages of love,
And there inquire thy will.

When troubles rise, and storms appear,
There may his children hide;
God has a strong pavilion where
He makes my soul abide.

Now shall my head be lifted high
Above my foes around,
And songs of joy and victory
Within thy temple sound.

poem by Isaac Watts
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5. Merry Old England

Shining armour tunics bright
A table large and round
Swords pointing to its centre
Where Arthur’s knights be found

Each had pledged allegiance
That will never be forgot
To uphold the rights of justice
In this place called Camelot

Each fought in many battles
You’d often hear them call
We fight in the name of King Arthur
For right and with justice for all

Tyrants they had vanquished
Dragons had been slain
Damsels in their ivory towers
Saved time and time again

At last the knights disbanded
All battles had been won
Back to merry old England
Where King Arthur’s job was done

poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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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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The City of God

CITY of God, how broad and far
Outspread thy walls sublime!
The true thy chartered freemen are,
Of every age and clime.

One holy Church, one army strong,
One steadfast high intent,
One working band, one harvest-song,
One King Omnipotent.

How purely hath thy speech come down
From man’s primeval youth;
How grandly hath thine empire grown
Of Freedom, Love, and Truth!

How gleam thy watchfires through the night,
With never fainting ray;
How rise thy towers, serene and bright,
To meet the dawning day!

In vain the surge’s angry shock,
In vain the drifting sands;
Unharmed, upon the Eternal Rock,
The Eternal City stands.

poem by Samuel Johnson
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His Church Can Rise Up

Today The Church can rise above, through God’s power and His Love.
She can rise up to the task at hand, and for The Lord can take a stand.
My friend, even in the darkest nights, we can rise up to greater heights.
For we can rise up in Christ’s Victory, as we march forward to Eternity.

Jesus Christ will build His Church, and build it upon The Savior’s worth.
She’s not built upon an earthly frame, but built upon Her Savior’s Name.
Jesus Christ the very Cornerstone, guides His Church from His Throne.
For His Church, Jesus Christ alone, is her foundation and the capstone.

He’s the Groom and we’re the Bride, and His Church will not be denied.
He’s creating a Holy Priesthood friend, of whose service will never end.
We my friends are the living stones, bought and placed by Christ alone,
We’re being built into a spiritual house, by the Church’s Eternal Spouse.

Even though darkened forces rail, the gates of Hades shall not prevail.
Christ’s Victory we can proclaim, through the power of His Holy Name.
We need to rise up above the night, and lift up high Christ’s Holy Light.
We can rise above every situation, and point the world to His salvation.

Very soon The Church will surly rise, to meet The Savior up in the skies,
Dear friend Satan is the defeated foe, and this we need to let men know.
So we need to rise up and tell all men, that Satan is the one condemned,
And when they join The Church of Christ, they too shall gain Eternal Life.

poem by Bob Gotti
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The King Of Candyland

Have you heard of the king of Candy land?
Well, listen while I sing,
He has pages on every hand,
For he is a mighty king,
And thousands of children bend the knee,
And bow to this ruler of high degree.

He has a smile, oh! like the sun!
And his face is round and bland,
His bright eyes twinkle and glow with fun,
As the children kiss his hand.
And everything toothsome, melting, sweet,
He scatters freely before their feet.

But wo! for the children who follow him,
With loving praises and laughter,
For he is a monster ugly and grim
That they go running after.
And when they get well into the chase
He lifts his masque and shows his face.

And ah! but that is a gruesome sight
For the followers of the king.
The cheeks grow pale that once were bright,
And they sob instead of sing.
And their teeth drop out and their eyes grow red,
And they cannot sleep when they go to bed.

And after they see the monster's face,
They have no peaceful hour.
And they have aches in every place,
And what was sweet seems sour.
Oh wo! for that sorrowful foolish band
Who follow the king of Candy land.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Jingo and the Minstrel

AN ARGUMENT FOR THE MAINTENANCE OF PEACE AND GOODWILL WITH THE JAPANESE PEOPLE

Glossary for the uninstructed and the hasty: Jimmu Tenno, ancestor of all the Japanese Emperors; Nikko, Japan's loveliest shrine; Iyeyasu, her greatest statesman; Bushido, her code of knighthood; The Forty-seven Ronins, her classic heroes; Nogi, her latest hero; Fuji, her most beautiful mountain.

"Now do you know of Avalon
That sailors call Japan?
She holds as rare a chivalry
As ever bled for man.
King Arthur sleeps at Nikko hill
Where Iyeyasu lies,
And there the broad Pendragon flag
In deathless splendor flies."

"Nay, minstrel, but the great ships come
From out the sunset sea.
We cannot greet the souls they bring
With welcome high and free.
How can the Nippon nondescripts
That weird and dreadful band
Be aught but what we find them here:—
The blasters of the land?"

"First race, first men from anywhere
To face you, eye to eye.
For that do you curse Avalon
And raise a hue and cry?
These toilers cannot kiss your hand,
Or fawn with hearts bowed down:
Be glad for them, and Avalon,
And Arthur's ghostly crown.

"No doubt your guests, with sage debate
In grave things gentlemen
Will let your trade and farms alone
And turn them back again.
But why should brawling braggarts rise
With hasty words of shame
To drive them back like dogs and swine
Who in due honor came?"

"We cannot give them honor, sir.
We give them scorn for scorn.
And Rumor steals around the world
All white-skinned men to warn
Against this sleek silk-merchant here
And viler coolie-man
And wrath within the courts of war
Brews on against Japan!"

"Must Avalon, with hope forlorn,
Her back against the wall,
Have lived her brilliant life in vain
While ruder tribes take all?
Must Arthur stand with Asian Celts,
A ghost with spear and crown,
Behind the great Pendragon flag
And be again cut down?

"Tho Europe's self shall move against
High Jimmu Tenno's throne
The Forty-seven Ronin Men
Will not be found alone.
For Percival and Bedivere
And Nogi side by side
Will stand,—with mourning Merlin there,
Tho all go down in pride.

"But has the world the envious dream—
Ah, such things cannot be,—
To tear their fairy-land like silk
And toss it in the sea?
Must venom rob the future day
The ultimate world-man
Of rare Bushido, code of codes,
The fair heart of Japan?

"Go, be the guest of Avalon.
Believe me, it lies there
Behind the mighty gray sea-wall
Where heathen bend in prayer:
Where peasants lift adoring eyes
To Fuji's crown of snow.
King Arthur's knights will be your hosts,
So cleanse your heart, and go.

"And you will find but gardens sweet
Prepared beyond the seas,
And you will find but gentlefolk
Beneath the cherry-trees.
So walk you worthy of your Christ
Tho church bells do not sound,
And weave the bands of brotherhood
On Jimmu Tenno's ground."

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Praise, My Soul, the King of Heaven

Praise, my soul, the King of Heaven;
To His feet Thy tribute bring!
Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,
Who like me His praise should sing?
Praise Him! praise Him!
Praise the everlasting King!

Praise Him for His grace and favour,
To our fathers in distress!
Praise Him still the same for ever,
Slow to chide, and swift to bless!
Praise Him! praise Him!
Glorious in His faithfulness!

Father-like, He tends and spares us;
Well our feeble frame He knows.
In His hands He gently bears us,
Rescues us from all our foes,
Praise Him! praise Him!
Widely as His mercy flows!

Frail as summer's flower we flourish:
Blows the wind, and it is gone.
But while mortals rise and perish,
God endures unchanging on.
Praise Him, Praise Him,
Praise the high eternal One!

Angels, help us to adore Him;
Ye behold Him face to face:
Sun and moon, bow down before Him;
Dwellers all in time and space,
Praise Him! praise Him!
Praise with us the God of grace!

poem by Henry Francis Lyte
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Veterans

When the last charge sounds
And the battle thunders o'er the plain,
Thunders o'er the trenches where the red streams flow,
Will it not be well with us,
Veterans, veterans,
If, beneath your torn old flag, we burst upon the foe?

When the last post sounds
And the night is on the battle-field,
Night and rest at last from all the tumult of our wars,
Will it not be well with us,
Veterans, veterans,
If, with duty done like yours, we lie beneath the stars?

When the great réveillé sounds
For the terrible last Sabbath,
All the legions of the dead shall hear the trumpet ring!
Will it not be well with us,
Veterans, veterans,
If, beneath your torn old flag, we rise to meet our King?

poem by Alfred Noyes
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Before The Lord We Bow

Before the Lord we bow, the God Who reigns above,
And rules the world below, boundless in power and love.
Our thanks we bring in joy and praise, our hearts we raise
To Heaven's high King.

The nation Thou hast blest may well Thy love declare,
From foes and fears at rest, protected by Thy care.
For this fair land, for this bright day, our thanks we pay,
Gifts of Thy hand.

May every mountain height, each vale and forest green,
Shine in Thy Word's pure light, and its rich fruits be seen!
May every tongue be tuned to praise, and join to raise
A grateful song.

Earth, hear thy Maker's voice, thy great Redeemer own;
Believe, obey, rejoice, and worship Him alone.
Cast down thy pride, thy sin deplore and bow before
The Crucified.

And when in power He comes, O may our native land,
From all its rending tombs, send forth a glorious band.
A countless throng, ever to sing to Heaven's high King
Salvation's song.

poem by Francis Scott Key
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Today... 'Christ the King of Israel

Rejected and spurned they just would not receive
Him as Christ the king and they did not believe.
but there they crucified Him upon that hill
and platted a crown of thorns mocking Him still.

Reviling him they began to rant and rave.
'He saved others but Himself He cannot save'
All those that had preferred Barabbas instead.
'Let Him descend down now from the cross, ' they said.

We hear the God of heaven look down and say
'My King reigns upon My holy hill this day.'
For Jesus Christ is the King of Israel
and the King of all other nations as well.

(see also the additional information below in the Poet's box)

poem by Roy Allen
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The Patriotic League

Behold! the biased foes of Right
Are conscious of their danger,
They’re startled by the dawning light,
So very long a stranger.
And fearing for their rotting laws—
Whose reign is nearly ended—
To study out the People’s cause
At last they’ve condescended.

“And this they call the ‘People’s Cause’,
Why this is insurrection!
They would revoke the very laws
We made for our protection!
An equal right with us they claim!
They’ll rob us by and by, sir!
We’ll form a league and steal a name
And tell another lie, sir.”

They took to gloss a base intrigue
A name that was demotic.
They stole a name and formed a league
And called it “Patriotic”.
They’ve resurrected ancient lies—
The world had most forgotten—
The liars think the world will rise
To back a Cause that’s rotten.

I know their creed, and know it well,
Too mean are its creators
To hope for heaven, or fear the hell
They’d make for agitators.
Old as the hills—and quite as dense
Though shaking like a jelly.
Time honoured to magnificence,
Religion of the Belly!

poem by Henry Lawson
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Uncle Arthur

Strikes the bell for 5 oclock, uncle arthur closes shop
Screws the tops on all the bottles, turns the lights out, locks it up
Climbs across his bike and hes away
Cycles past the gasworks, past the river, down the high street
Back to mother, its another empty day
Uncle arthur likes his mommy
Uncle arthur still reads comics
Uncle arthur follows batman
Round and round the rumours fly, how he ran away from mum
On his 32nd birthday, told her that hed found a chum
Mother cried and raved and yelled and fussed
Arthur left her no illusion, brought the girl round, save confusion
Sally was the real thing, not just lust
Uncle arthur vanished quickly
Uncle arthur and his new bride
Uncle arthur follows sally
Round and round goes arthurs head, hasnt eaten well for days
Little sally may be lovely, but cooking leaves her in a maze
Uncle arthur packed his bags and fled
Back to mother, alls forgiven, serving in the family shop
He gets his pocket money, hes well fed
Uncle arthur past the gasworks
Uncle arthur past the river
Uncle arthur down the high street
Uncle arthur follows mother

song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Ned Of The Hill

Have you ever walked the lonesome hills
And heard the curlews cry
Or seen the raven black as night
Upon a windswept sky
To walk the purple heather
And hear the westwind cry
To know that's where the rapparee must die
Since cromwell pushed us westward
To live our lowly lives
There's some of us have deemed to fight
From tipperary mountains high
Noble men with wills of iron
Who are not afraid to die
Who'll fight with gaelic honour held on high
A curse upon you oliver cromwell
You who raped our motherland
I hope you're rotting down in hell
For the horrors that you sent
To our misfortunate forefathers
Whom you robbed of their birthright
"to hell or connaught" may you burn in hell tonight
Of one such man i'd like to speak
A rapparee by name and deed
His family dispossessed and slaughtered
They put a price upon his head
His name is known in song and story
His deeds are legends still
And murdered for blood money
Was young ned of the hill
A curse upon you oliver cromwell
You who raped our motherland
I hope you're rotting down in hell
For the horrors that you sent
To our misfortunate forefathers
Whom you robbed of their birthright
"to hell or connaught" may you burn in hell tonight
You have robbed our homes and fortunes
Even drove us from our land
You tried to break our spirit
But you'll never understand
The love of dear old ireland
That will forge an iron will
As long as there are gallant men
Like young ned of the hill

song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psalm 45

The glory of Christ.

My Savior and my King,
Thy beauties are divine;
Thy lips with blessings overflow,
And every grace is thine.

Now make thy glory known,
Gird on thy dreadful sword,
And ride in majesty to spread
The conquests of thy word.

Strike through thy stubborn foes,
Or melt their hearts t' obey,
While justice, meekness, grace, and truth,
Attend thy glorious way.

Thy laws, O God, are right;
Thy throne shall ever stand;
And thy victorious gospel proves
A sceptre in thy hand.

[Thy Father and thy God
Hath without measure shed
His Spirit, like a joyful oil,
T' anoint thy sacred head.]

[Behold, at thy right hand
The Gentile church is seen,
Like a fair bride in rich attire,
And princes guard the queen.]

Fair bride, receive his love,
Forget thy father's house;
Forsake thy gods, thy idol gods,
And pay thy Lord thy vows.

O let thy God and King
Thy sweetest thoughts employ;
Thy children shall his honors sing
In palaces of joy.