large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_03_chesterton_64kb_19
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_03_chesterton_64kb
English
5754
Blue eyed was Elf the minstrel, With womanish hair and ring, Yet heavy was his hand on sword, Though light upon the string. And as he stirred the strings of the harp To notes but four or five, The heart of each man moved in him Like a babe buried alive. BLUE EYED WAS ELF THE MINSTREL WITH WOMANISH HAIR AND RING YET HEAVY WAS HIS HAND ON SWORD THOUGH LIGHT UPON THE STRING AND HE STIRRED THE STRINGS OF THE HARP TO NOTES BUT FOUR OR FIVE THE HEART OF EACH MAN MOVED IN HIM LIKE A BABE BURIED ALIVE
from Tyre, And marble like solid moonlight, And gold like frozen fire. "Smells that a man might swill in a cup, Stones that a man might eat, And the great smooth women like ivory That the Turks sell in the street." He sang the song of the thief of the world, And the gods that love the thief; And he yelled aloud at the cloister-yards, Where men go gathering grief. "Well have you sung, O stranger, Of death on the dyke in Wales, Your chief was a bracelet-giver; But the red unbroken river Of a race runs not for ever, But suddenly it fails. "Doubtless your sires were sword-swingers When they waded fresh from foam, Before they were turned to women By the god of the nails from Rome; "But since you bent to the shaven men, Who neither lust nor smite, Thunder of Thor, we hunt you A hare on the mountain height." King Guthrum smiled a little, And said, "It is enough, Nephew, let Elf retune the string; A boy must needs like bellowing, But the old ears of a careful king Are glad of songs less rough.  FROM BURGUNDY CLOAKS LIKE CLOUDS FROM TYRE AND MARBLE LIKE SOLID MOONLIGHT AND GOLD LIKE FROZEN FIRE SMELLS THAT A MAN MIGHT SWOOL IN A CUP STONES THAT A MAN MIGHT EAT AND THE GREAT SMOOTH WOMAN LIKE IVORY THAT THE TURKS SELL IN THE STREET HE SANG THE SONG OF THE THIEF OF THE WORLD AND THE GODS THAT LOVE THE THIEF AND HE YELLED ALOUD AT THE CLOISTER YARDS WHERE MEN GO GATHERING GRIEF WELL HAVE YOU SUNG O STRANGER OF DEATH ON THE DIKE IN WALES YOUR CHIEF WAS A BRACELET GIVER BUT THE RED UNBROKEN RIVER OF A RACE RUNS NOT FOR EVER BUT SUDDENLY IT FAILS DOUBTLESS YOUR SIRES WERE SWORD SWINGERS WHEN THEY WAITED FRESH FROM FOAM BEFORE THEY WERE TURNED TO WOMAN BY THE GODS OF THE NAILS FROM ROME BUT SINCE YOU BENT TO THE SHAVEN HEAD WHO NEITHER LUST NOR SMITE BLUNDER OF THOR WE HUNT YOU A HARE ON THE MOUNTAIN HEIGHT KING GUTHRUM SMILED A LITTLE AND SAID IT IS ENOUGH NEPHEW LET ELF RETURN THE STRING A BOY MUST NEED LIKE BELLOWING BUT THE OLD EARS OF A CAREFUL KING ARE GLAD OF SONGS LESS ROUGH
large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_03_chesterton_64kb
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download/librilight/large/5754/balladwhitehorse_1404_librivox_64kb_mp3/balladofthewhitehorse_03_chesterton_64kb.flac