large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_00_chesterton_64kb_7
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_00_chesterton_64kb
English
5754
Therefore I bring these rhymes to you Who brought the cross to me, Since on you flaming without flaw I saw the sign that Guthrum saw When he let break his ships of awe, And laid peace on the sea. THEREFORE I BRING THESE RHYMES TO YOU WHO BROUGHT THE CROSS TO ME SINCE ON YOU FLAMING WITHOUT FLAW I SAW THE SIGN THAT GERTHRUM SAW WHEN HE LET BREAK HIS SHIPS OF AWE AND LAID PEACE ON THE SEA
he holy kings Ride down by Severn side. Stiff, strange, and quaintly coloured As the broidery of Bayeux The England of that dawn remains, And this of Alfred and the Danes Seems like the tales a whole tribe feigns Too English to be true. Of a good king on an island That ruled once on a time; And as he walked by an apple tree There came green devils out of the sea With sea-plants trailing heavily And tracks of opal slime. Yet Alfred is no fairy tale; His days as our days ran, He also looked forth for an hour On peopled plains and skies that lower, From those few windows in the tower That is the head of a man. But who shall look from Alfred's hood Or breathe his breath alive? His century like a small dark cloud Drifts far; it is an eyeless crowd, Where the tortured trumpets scream aloud And the dense arrows drive. Lady, by one light only We look from Alfred's eyes, We know he saw athwart the wreck The sign that hangs about your neck, Where One more than Melchizedek Is dead and never dies. WE SHALL NOT SEE THE HOLY KINGS RIDE DOWN BY SEVERN SIDE STIFF STRANGE AND QUAINTLY COLOURED AS THE BROIDERY OF BEYU THE ENGLAND OF THAT DAWN REMAINS AND THIS OF ALFRED AND THE DANES SEEMS LIKE THE TALES OF A WHOLE TRIBE OF VEINS TOO ENGLISH TO BE TRUE OF A GOOD KING ON AN ISLAND THAT RULED ONCE IN A TIME AND AS HE WALKED BY AN APPLE TREE THERE CAME GREEN DEVILS OUT OF THE SEA WITH SEA PLANTS TRAILING HEAVILY AND TRACKS OF OPAL SLIME YET ALFRED IS NO FAIRY TALE HIS DAYS AS OUR DAYS RAN HE ALSO LOOKED FORTH FOR AN HOUR ON PEOPLED PLAINS AND SKIES THAT LOWER FROM THOSE FEW WINDOWS IN THE TOWER THAT IS THE HEAD OF A MAN BUT WHO SHALL LOOK FROM ALFRED'S HOOD OR BREATHE HIS BREATH ALIVE HIS SENTRY LIKE A SMALL DARK CLOUD DRIFTS FAR IT IS AN EYELESS CROWD WHERE THE TORTURED TRUMPETS SCREAM ALOUD AND THE DENSE ARROWS DRIVE LADY BY ONE LIGHT ONLY WE LOOK FROM ALFRED'S EYES WE KNOW WE SAW ATHWART THE WRECK THE SIGN THAT HANGS ABOUT YOUR NECK WHERE ONE MORE THAN MELTS DECK IS DEAD AND NEVER DIES
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_00_chesterton_64kb
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download/librilight/large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_00_chesterton_64kb.flac