'Pass them all by: till, as you come Where, at a city's edge, Under a tree--I know it well-- Under a lattice ledge,
'The sunshine falls on one brown head. You, too, O cold of clay, Eater of stones, may haply hear The trumpets of that day
'When God to all his paladins By his own splendour swore To make a fairer face than heaven, Of dust and nothing more.'
THE BALLAD OF THE BATTLE OF GIBEON
Five kings rule o'er the Amorite, Mighty as fear and old as night; Swathed with unguent and gold and jewel, Waxed they merry and fat and cruel. Zedek of Salem, a terror and glory, Whose face was hid while his robes were gory; And Hoham of Hebron, whose loathly face is Heavy and dark o'er the ruin of races; And Piram of Jarmuth, drunk with strange wine, Who dreamed he had fashioned all stars that shine; And Debir of Eglon wild, without pity, Who raged like a plague in the midst of his city; And Japhia of Lachish, a fire that flameth, Who did in the daylight what no man nameth.
These five kings said one to another, 'King unto king o'er the world is brother, Seeing that now, for a sign and a wonder, A red eclipse and a tongue of thunder, A shape and a finger of desolation, Is come against us a kingless nation. Gibeon hath failed us: it were not good That a man remember where Gibeon stood.' Then Gibeon sent to our captain, crying, 'Son of Nun, let a shaft be flying, For unclean birds are gathering greedily; Slack not thy hand, but come thou speedily. Yea, we are lost save thou maintain'st us, For the kings of the mountains are gathered against us.'
Then to our people spake the Deliverer, 'Gibeon is high, yet a host may shiver her; Gibeon hath sent to me crying for pity, For the lords of the cities encompass the city With chariot and banner and bowman and lancer, And I swear by the living God I will answer. Gird you, O Israel, quiver and javelin, Shield and sword for the road we travel in; Verily, as I have promised, pay I Life unto Gibeon, death unto Ai.'
Sudden and still as a bolt shot right Up on the city we went by night. Never a bird of the air could say, 'This was the children of Israel's way.'
Only the hosts sprang up from sleeping, Saw from the heights a dark stream sweeping; Sprang up straight as a great shout stung them, And heard the Deliverer's war-cry among them, Heard under cupola, turret, and steeple The awful cry of the kingless people.
Started the weak of them, shouted the strong of them, Crashed we a thunderbolt into the throng of them, Blindly with heads bent, and shields forced before us, We heard the dense roar of the strife closing o'er us. And drunk with the crash of the song that it sung them, We drove the great spear-blade in God's name among them.
Redder and redder the sword-flash fell. Our eyes and our nostrils were hotter than hell; Till full all the crest of the spear-surge shocking us, Hoham of Hebron cried out mocking us, 'Nay, what need of the war-sword's plying, Out of the desert the dust comes flying. A little red dust, if the wind be blowing-- Who shall reck of its coming or going?' Back the Deliverer spake as a clarion, 'Mock at thy slaves, thou eater of carrion! Laughest thou at us, in thy kingly clowning, We, that laughed upon Ramases frowning. We that stood up proud, unpardoned, When his face was dark and his heart was hardened? Pharaoh we knew and his steeds, not faster Than the word of the Lord in thine ear, O master.
Sheer through the turban his wantons wove him, Clean to the skull the Deliverer clove him; And the two hosts reeled at the sign appalling, As the great king fell like a great house falling.
Loudly we shouted, and living and dying. Bore them all backward with strength and strong crying; And Caleb struck Zedek hard at the throat, And Japhia of Lachish Zebulon smote. The war-swords and axes were clashing and groaning, The fallen were fighting and foaming and moaning; The war-spears were breaking, the war-horns were braying, Ere the hands of the slayers were sated with slaying. And deep in the grasses grown gory and sodden, The treaders of all men were trampled and trodden; And over them, routed and reeled like cattle, High over the turn of the tide of the battle, High over noises that deafen and cover us, Rang the Deliverer's voice out over us.
'Stand thou still, thou sun upon Gibeon, Stand thou, moon, in the valley of Ajalon! Shout thou, people, a cry like thunder, For the kings of the earth are broken asunder. Now we have said as the thunder says it, Something is stronger than strength and slays it. Now we have written for all time later, Five kings are great, yet a law is greater. Stare, O sun! in thine own great glory, This is the turn of the whole world's story. Stand thou still, thou sun upon Gibeon, Stand thou, moon, in the valley of Ajalon!
'Smite! amid spear-blades blazing and breaking. More than we know of is rising and making. Stab with the javelin, crash with the car! Cry! for we know not the thing that we are. Stand, O sun! that in horrible patience Smiled on the smoke and the slaughter of nations. Thou shalt grow sad for a little crying, Thou shalt be darkened for one man's dying-- Stand thou still, thou sun upon Gibeon, Stand thou, moon, in the valley of Ajalon!'
After the battle was broken and spent Up to the hill the Deliverer went, Flung up his arms to the storm-clouds flying, And cried unto Israel, mightily crying, 'Come up, O warriors! come up, O brothers! Tribesmen and herdsmen, maidens and mothers; The bondman's son and the bondman's daughter, The hewer of wood and the drawer of water, He that carries and he that brings, And set your foot on the neck of kings.'
This is the story of Gibeon fight-- Where we smote the lords of the Amorite; Where the banners of princes with slaughter were sodden. And the beards of seers in the rank grass trodden; Where the trees were wrecked by the wreck of cars, And the reek of the red field blotted the stars; Where the dead heads dropped from the swords that sever, Because His mercy endureth for ever.
'VULGARISED'
All round they murmur, 'O profane, Keep thy heart's secret hid as gold'; But I, by God, would sooner be Some knight in shattering wars of old,
In brown outlandish arms to ride, And shout my love to every star With lungs to make a poor maid's name Deafen the iron ears of war.
Here, where these subtle cowards crowd, To stand and so to speak of love, That the four corners of the world Should hear it and take heed thereof.
That to this shrine obscure there be One witness before all men given, As naked as the hanging Christ, As shameless as the sun in heaven.
These whimperers--have they spared to us One dripping woe, one reeking sin? These thieves that shatter their own graves To prove the soul is dead within.
They talk; by God, is it not time Some of Love's chosen broke the girth, And told the good all men have known Since the first morning of the earth?
THE BALLAD OF GOD-MAKERS
A bird flew out at the break of day From the nest where it had curled, And ere the eve the bird had set Fear on the kings of the world.
The first tree it lit upon Was green with leaves unshed; The second tree it lit upon Was red with apples red;
The third tree it lit upon Was barren and was brown, Save for a dead man nailed thereon On a hill above a town.
That right the kings of the earth were gay And filled the cup and can; Last night the kings of the earth were chill For dread of a naked man.
'If he speak two more words,' they said, 'The slave is more than the free; If he speak three more words,' they said, 'The stars are under the sea.'
Said the King of the East to the King of the West, I wot his frown was set, 'Lo; let us slay him and make him as dung, It is well that the world forget.'
Said the King of the West to the King of the East, I wot his smile was dread, 'Nay, let us slay him and make him a god, It is well that our god be dead.'
They set the young man on a hill, They nailed him to a rod; And there in darkness and in blood They made themselves a god.
And the mightiest word was left unsaid, And the world had never a mark, And the strongest man of the sons of men Went dumb into the dark.
Then hymns and harps of praise they brought, Incense and gold and myrrh, And they thronged above the seraphim, The poor dead carpenter.
'Thou art the prince of all,' they sang, 'Ocean and earth and a
ir.' Then the bird flew on to the cruel cross, And hid in the dead man's hair.
'Thou art the sun of the world,' they cried, 'Speak if our prayers be heard.' And the brown bird stirred in the dead man's hair, And it seemed that the dead man stirred.
Then a shriek went up like the world's last cry From all nations under heaven, And a master fell before a slave And begged to be forgiven.
They cowered, for dread in his wakened eyes The ancient wrath to see; And the bird flew out of the dead Christ's hair, And lit on a lemon-tree.
AT NIGHT
How many million stars there be, That only God hath numberd; But this one only chosen for me In time before her face was fled. Shall not one mortal man alive Hold up his head?
THE WOOD-CUTTER
We came behind him by the wall, My brethren drew their brands, And they had strength to strike him down-- And I to bind his hands.
Only once, to a lantern gleam, He turned his face from the wall, And it was as the accusing angel's face On the day when the stars shall fall.
I grasped the axe with shaking hands, I stared at the grass I trod; For I feared to see the whole bare heavens Filled with the face of God.
I struck: the serpentine slow blood In four arms soaked the moss-- Before me, by the living Christ, The blood ran in a cross.
Therefore I toil in forests here And pile the wood in stacks, And take no fee from the shivering folk Till I have cleansed the axe.
But for a curse God cleared my sight, And where each tree doth grow I see a life with awful eyes, And I must lay it low.
ART COLOURS
On must we go: we search dead leaves, We chase the sunset's saddest flames, The nameless hues that o'er and o'er In lawless wedding lost their names.
God of the daybreak! Better be Black savages; and grin to gird Our limbs in gaudy rags of red, The laughing-stock of brute and bird;
And feel again the fierce old feast, Blue for seven heavens that had sufficed, A gold like shining hoards, a red Like roses from the blood of Christ.
THE TWO WOMEN
Lo! very fair is she who knows the ways Of joy: in pleasure's mocking wisdom old, The eyes that might be cold to flattery, kind; The hair that might be grey with knowledge, gold.
But thou art more than these things, O my queen, For thou art clad in ancient wars and tears. And looking forth, framed in the crown of thorns, I saw the youngest face in all the spheres.
THE WILD KNIGHT
The wasting thistle whitens on my crest, The barren grasses blow upon my spear, A green, pale pennon: blazon of wild faith And love of fruitless things: yea, of my love, Among the golden loves of all the knights, Alone: most hopeless, sweet, and blasphemous, The love of God: I hear the crumbling creeds Like cliffs washed down by water, change, and pass; I hear a noise of words, age after age, A new cold wind that blows across the plains, And all the shrines stand empty; and to me All these are nothing: priests and schools may doubt Who never have believed; but I have loved. Ah friends, I know it passing well, the love Wherewith I love; it shall not bring to me Return or hire or any pleasant thing-- Ay, I have tried it: Ay, I know its roots. Earthquake and plague have burst on it in vain And rolled back shattered-- Babbling neophytes! Blind, startled fools--think you I know it not? Think you to teach me? Know I not His ways? Strange-visaged blunders, mystic cruelties. All! all! I know Him, for I love Him. Go!
So, with the wan waste grasses on my spear, I ride for ever, seeking after God. My hair grows whiter than my thistle plume, And all my limbs are loose; but in my eyes The star of an unconquerable praise: For in my soul one hope for ever sings, That at the next white corner of a road My eyes may look on Him.... Hush--I shall know The place when it is found: a twisted path Under a twisted pear-tree--this I saw In the first dream I had ere I was born, Wherein He spoke.... But the grey clouds come down In hail upon the icy plains: I ride, Burning for ever in consuming fire.
THE WILD KNIGHT
_A dark manor-house shuttered and unlighted, outlined against a pale sunset: in front a large, but neglected, garden. To the right, in the foreground, the porch of a chapel, with coloured windows lighted. Hymns within._
_Above the porch a grotesque carved bracket, supporting a lantern. Astride of it sits CAPTAIN REDFEATHER, a flagon in his hand_.
REDFEATHER.
I have drunk to all I know of, To every leaf on the tree, To the highest bird of the heavens, To the lowest fish of the sea. What toast, what toast remaineth, Drunk down in the same good wine, By the tippler's cup in the tavern, And the priest's cup at the shrine?
[_A Priest comes out, stick in hand, and looks right and left._]
VOICES WITHIN.
The brawler ...
PRIEST.
He has vanished
REDFEATHER.
To the stars.
[_The Priest looks up._]
PRIEST [_angrily_].
What would you there, sir?
REDFEATHER.
Give you all a toast.
[_Lifts his flagon. More priests come out._]
I see my life behind me: bad enough-- Drink, duels, madness, beggary, and pride, The life of the unfit: yet ere I drop On Nature's rubbish heap, I weigh it all, And give you all a toast--
[_Reels to his feet and stands._]
The health of God!
[_They all recoil from him._]
Let's give the Devil of the Heavens His due! He that made grass so green, and wine so red, Is not so black as you have painted him.
[_Drinks._]
PRIEST.
Blaspheming profligate!
REDFEATHER [_hurls the flagon among them._]
Howl! ye dumb dogs, I named your King--let me have one great shout, Flutter the seraphim like startled birds; Make God recall the good days of His youth Ere saints had saddened Him: when He came back Conqueror of Chaos in a six days' war, With all the sons of God shouting for joy ...
PRIEST.
And you--what is your right, and who are you, To praise God?
REDFEATHER.
A lost soul. In earth or heaven What has a better right?
PRIEST.
Go, pagan, go! Drink, dice, and dance: take no more thought than blind Beasts of the field....
REDFEATHER.
Or ... lilies of the field, To quote a pagan sage. I go my way.
PRIEST [_solemnly_].
And when Death comes....
REDFEATHER.
He shall not find me dead.
[_Puts on his plumed hat. The priests go out._]
REDFEATHER.
These frozen fools....
[_The Lady Olive comes out of the chapel. He sees her._]
Oh, they were right enough. Where shall I hide my carrion from the sun?
[_Buries his face. His hat drops to the ground._]
OLIVE [_looking up._]
Captain, are you from church? I saw you not.
REDFEATHER.
No, I am here.
[_Lays his hand on a gargoyle._]
I, too, am a grotesque, And dance with all the devils on the roof.
The Essential G. K. Chesterton Page 489
