large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_06_chesterton_64kb_8
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_06_chesterton_64kb
English
5754
Under all graves they murmur, They murmur and rebel, Down to the buried kingdoms creep, And like a lost rain roar and weep O'er the red heavens of hell. Thrice drowned was Elf the minstrel, And washed as dead on sand; And the third time men found him The spear was in his hand. UNDER ALL GRAVES THEY MURMUR THEY MURMUR AND REBEL DOWN TO THE BURIED KINGDOMS CREEP AND LIKE A LOST RAIN ROAR AND WEEP O'ER THE RED HEAVENS OF HELL THRICE DROWNED WAS ELF THE MINSTREL AND WASHED AS DEAD ON SAND AND THE THIRD TIME MEN FOUND HIM THE SPEAR WAS IN HIS HAND
ny sand-winds tall and dry, Like hell's red banners beat and fly, When death comes out of Araby, Was Eldred in his hour. But while he moved like a massacre He murmured as in sleep, And his words were all of low hedges And little fields and sheep. Even as he strode like a pestilence, That strides from Rhine to Rome, He thought how tall his beans might be If ever he went home. Spoke some stiff piece of childish prayer, Dull as the distant chimes, That thanked our God for good eating And corn and quiet times-- Till on the helm of a high chief Fell shatteringly his brand, And the helm broke and the bone broke And the sword broke in his hand. Then from the yelling Northmen Driven splintering on him ran Full seven spears, and the seventh Was never made by man. Seven spears, and the seventh Was wrought as the faerie blades, And given to Elf the minstrel By the monstrous water-maids; By them that dwell where luridly Lost waters of the Rhine Move among roots of nations, Being sunken for a sign. VING LOCUST TOWER OR TAWNY SAND WINDS TALL AND DRY LIKE HELL'S RED BANNERS BEAT AND FLY WHEN DEATH COMES OUT OF ARABI WAS ELDRED IN HIS HOUR BUT WHILE HE MOVED LIKE A MASSACRE HE MURMURED AS IN SLEEP AND HIS WORDS WERE ALL OF LOW HEDGES AND LITTLE FIELDS AND SHEEP EVEN AS HE STRODE LIKE A PESTILENCE THAT STRIDES FROM RHINE TO ROME HE THOUGHT HOW TALL HIS BEANS MIGHT BE IF EVER HE WENT HOME SPOKE SOME STIFF PIECE OF CHILDISH PRAYER DULL AS THE DISTANT CHIMES THAT THANKED OUR GOD FOR GOOD EATING AND CORN AND QUIET TIMES TILL ON THE HELM OF A HIGH CHIEF FELL SHATTERINGLY HIS BRAND AND THE HELM BROKE AND THE BONE BROKE AND THE SWORD BROKE IN HIS HAND THEN FROM THE YELLING NORTHMEN DRIVEN SPLINTERING ON HIM RAN FULL SEVEN SPEARS AND THE SEVENTH WAS NEVER MADE BY MAN SEVEN SPEARS AND THE SEVENTH WAS WROUGHT AS THE FAERIE BLADES AND GIVEN TO ELF A MINSTREL BY THE MONSTROUS WATER MAIDS BY THEM THAT DWELL WHERE LURIDLY LOST WATERS OF THE RHINE MOVE AMONG ROOTS OF NATIONS BEING SUNKEN FOR A SIGN
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_06_chesterton_64kb
file
download/librilight/large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_06_chesterton_64kb.flac