large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_03_chesterton_64kb_38
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_03_chesterton_64kb
English
5754
"For Rome was given to rule the world, And gat of it little joy   But we, but we shall enjoy the world, The whole huge world a toy. FOR ROME WAS GIVEN TO RULE THE WORLD AND GUT OF IT LITTLE JOY BUT WE WE SHALL ENJOY THE WORLD THE WHOLE HUGE WORLD A TOY
folk that live and die-- Pigmy and far away. And Alfred, King of Wessex, Looked on his conqueror-- And his hands hardened; but he played, And leaving all later hates unsaid, He sang of some old British raid On the wild west march of yore. He sang of war in the warm wet shires, Where rain nor fruitage fails, Where England of the motley states Deepens like a garden to the gates In the purple walls of Wales. He sang of the seas of savage heads And the seas and seas of spears, Boiling all over Offa's Dyke, What time a Wessex club could strike The kings of the mountaineers. Till Harold laughed and snatched the harp, The kinsman of the King, A big youth, beardless like a child, Whom the new wine of war sent wild, Smote, and began to sing-- And he cried of the ships as eagles That circle fiercely and fly, And sweep the seas and strike the towns From Cyprus round to Skye. How swiftly and with peril They gather all good things, The high horns of the forest beasts, Or the secret stones of kings. PILLAR IN THE SKY WHO SEES ALL FOLK THAT LIVE AND DIE PIGMY AND FAR AWAY AND ALFRED KING OF WESSEX LOOKED ON HIS CONQUEROR AND HIS HANDS HARDENED BUT HE PLAYED LEAVING ALL LATER HATES UNSAID HE SANG OF SOME OLD BRITISH RAID ON THE WILD WEST MARCH OF YORE HE SANG OF WAR IN THE WARM WET SHIRES WHERE RAIN NOR FRUITAGE FALLS WHERE ENGLAND OF THE MOTLEY STATES DEEPENS LIKE A GARDEN TO THE GATES IN THE PURPLE WALLS OF WALES HE SANG OF THE SEAS OF SAVAGE HEADS AND THE SEAS AND THE SEAS OF SPEARS BOILING ALL OVER OVA'S DIKE WHAT TIME A WESSEX CLUB COULD STRIKE THE KINGS OF THE MOUNTAINEERS TILL HAROLD LAUGHED AND SNATCHED THE HARP THE KINSMAN OF THE KING A BIG YOUTH BEARDLESS LIKE A CHILD WHOM THE NEW WINE OF WAR SENT WILD SMOTE AND BEGAN TO SING AND HE CRIED OF THE SHIPS OF EAGLES THAT CIRCLE FIERCELY AND FLY AND SWEEP THE SEAS AND STRIKE THE TOWNS FROM CYPRESS ROUND TO SKY HOW SWIFTLY AND WITH PERIL THEY GATHER ALL GOOD THINGS THE HIGH HORNS OF THE FOREST BEASTS OR THE SECRET STONES OF KINGS
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_03_chesterton_64kb
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