GOD

RECESSIONAL

OD of our fathers, known of old-
Lord of our far-flung battle line—
Beneath whose awful hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine-
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget-lest we forget!

The tumult and the shouting dies-
The Captains and the Kings depart-
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget-lest we forget!

Far-called, our navies melt away

On dune and headland sinks the fireLo, all our pomp of yesterday

Is one with Nineveh and Tyre! Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, Lest we forget-lest we forget!

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe-

Such boasting as the Gentiles use,

Or lesser breeds without the LawLord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget-lest we forget!

246

RECESSIONAL

For heathen heart that puts her trust

In reeking tube and iron shard—
All valiant dust that builds on dust,

And guarding calls not Thee to guard-
For frantic boast and foolish word,

Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord! Amen!

RUDYARD KIPLING.

SIR GALAHAD

MY good blade carves the casques of men,

My tough lance thrusteth sure,

My strength is as the strength of ten,
Because my heart is pure.

The shattering trumpet shrilleth high,
The hard brands shiver on the steel,
The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly,
The horse and rider reel:

They reel, they roll in clanging lists,

And when the tide of combat stands, Perfume and flowers fall in showers, That lightly rain from ladies' hands.

How sweet are looks that ladies bend
On whom their favors fall!

For them I battle till the end,

To save from shame and thrall: But all my heart is drawn above,

My knees are bowed in crypt and shrine:

I never felt the kiss of love,

Nor maiden's hand in mine.

More bounteous aspects on me beam,
Me mightier transports move and thrill;
So keep I fair through faith and prayer
A virgin heart in work and will.

248

SIR GALAHAD

When down the stormy crescent goes,
A light before me swims.
Between dark stems the forest glows,
I hear a noise of hymns:

Then by some secret shrine I ride;

I hear a voice, but none are there;
The stalls are void, the doors are wide,
The tapers burning fair.

Fair gleams the snowy altar cloth,
The silver vessels sparkle clean,
The shrill bell rings, the censer swings,
And solemn chants resound between.

Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres
I find a magic bark;

I leap on board; no helmsman steers:
I float till all is dark.

A gentle sound, an awful light!

Three angels bear the Holy Grail: With folded feet, in stoles of white, On sleeping wings they sail.

Ah, blessed vision! blood of God!

My spirit beats her mortal bars,
As down dark tides the glory slides,
And star-like mingles with the stars.

When on my goodly charger borne
Through dreaming towns I go,

The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,
The streets are dumb with snow.

SIR GALAHAD

The tempest crackles on the leads,

And ringing, springs from brand and mail; But o'er the dark a glory spreads,

And gilds the driving hail.

I leave the plain, I climb the height;
No branchy thicket shelter yields;
But blessed forms in whistling storms
Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields.

A maiden knight-to me is given
Such hope, I know not fear;
I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven
That often meet me here.

I muse on you that will not cease,
Pure spaces clothed in living beams,
Pure lilies of eternal peace,

Whose odors haunt my dreams;

And, stricken by an angel's hand,

This mortal armor that I wear,

This weight and size, this heart and eyes,
Are touched, are turned to finest air.

The clouds are broken in the sky,
And through the mountain walls
A rolling organ-harmony

Swells up, and shakes and falls.
Then move the trees, the copses nod,
Wings flutter, voices hover clear:
"O just and faithful knight of God!
Ride on the prize is near."

249