Gilbert Keith Chesterton (Гилберт Кит Честертон)

The March of the Black Mountain

         1913

WHAT will there be to remember
   Of us in the days to be?
Whose faith was a trodden ember
   And even our doubt not free;
Parliaments built of paper,
   And the soft swords of gold
That twist like a waxen taper
   In the weak aggressor's hold;
A hush around Hunger, slaying
   A city of serfs unfed;
What shall we leave for a saying
   To praise us when we are dead?
But men shall remember the Mountain
   That broke its forest chains,
And men shall remember the Mountain
   When it arches against the plains:
And christen their children from it
   And season and ship and street,
When the Mountain came to Mahomet
   And looked small before his feet.

His head was as high as the crescent
   Of the moon that seemed his crown,
And on glory of past and present
   The light of his eyes looked down;
One hand went out to the morning
   Over Brahmin and Buddhist slain,
And one to the West in scorning
   To point at the scars of Spain;
One foot on the hills for warden
   By the little Mountain trod;
And one was in a garden
   And stood on the grave of God.
But men shall remember the Mountain,
   Though it fall down like a tree,
They shall see the sign of the Mountain
   Faith cast into the sea;
Though the crooked swords overcome it
   And the Crooked Moon ride free,
When the Mountain comes to Mahomet
   It has more life than he.

But what will there be to remember
   Or what will there be to see—
Though our towns through a long November
   Abide to the end and be?
Strength of slave and mechanic
   Whose iron is ruled, by gold,
Peace of immortal panic,
   Love that is hate grown cold—
Are these a bribe or a warning
   That we turn not to the sun,
Nor look on the lands of morning
   Where deeds at last are done?
Where men shall remember the Mountain
   When truth forgets the plain—
And walk in the way of the Mountain
   That did not fail in vain;
Death and eclipse and comet,
   Thunder and seals that rend:
When the Mountain came to Mahomet;
   Because it was the end.

1. Blessed Are the Peacemakers
2. The Crusader Returns from Captivity
3. To M. E. W.
4. Glencoe
5. Растяжение цвета • A Chord of Colour

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1232

Последние стихотворения

To English version