Works By G K Chesterton

""And whether ye swear a hive of monks, Or one fair wife to friend, This is the manner of Christian men, That their oath endures the end. "Love with the shield of the Broken Heart Ever his bow doth bend, With a single shaft for a single prize, And the ultimate bolt that parts and flies Comes with a thunder of split skies, And a sound of souls that rend. "So shall you earn a king's sword, Who cast your sword away." And the King took, with a random eye, A rude axe from a hind hard by And turned him to the fray. For the swords of the Earls of Daneland Flamed round the fallen lord. The first blood woke the trumpet-tune, As in monk's rhyme or wizard's rune, Beginneth the battle of Ethandune With the throwing of the sword."

"Far to the King's left Elf the bard Led on the eastern wing With songs and spells that change the blood; And on the King's right Harold stood, The kinsman of the King Young Harold, coarse, with colours gay, Smoking with oil and musk, And the pleasant violence of the young, Pushed through his people, giving tongue Foewards, where, grey as cobwebs hung, The banners of the Usk. But as he came before his line A little space along, His beardless face broke into mirth, And he cried: "What broken bits of earth Are here? For what their clothes are worth I would sell them for a song." For Colan was hung with raiment Tattered like autumn leaves, And his men were all as thin as saints, And all as poor as thieves. No bows nor slings nor bolts they bore, But bills and pikes ill-made; And none but Colan bore a sword, And rusty was its blade. And Colan's eyes with mystery And iron laughter stirred, And he spoke aloud, but lightly Not labouring to be heard. "Oh, truly we be broken hearts, For that cause, it is said, We light our candles to that Lord That broke Himself for bread. "But though we hold but bitterly What land the Saxon leaves, Though Ireland be but a land of saints, And Wales a land of thieves, "I say you yet shall weary Of the working of your word, That stricken spirits never strike Nor lean hands hold a sword. "And if ever ye ride in Ireland, The jest may yet be said, There is the land of broken hearts, And the land of broken heads." Not less barbarian laughter Choked Harold like a flood, "And shall I fight with scarecrows That am of Guthrum's blood? "Meeting may be of war-men, Where the best war-man wins; But all this carrion a man shoots Before the fight begins." And stopping in his onward strides, He snatched a bow in scorn From some mean slave, and bent it on Colan, whose doom grew dark; and shone Stars evil over Caerleon, In the place where he was born. For Colan had not bow nor sling, On a lonely sword leaned he, Like Arthur on Excalibur In the battle by the sea. To his great gold ear-ring Harold Tugged back the feathered tail, And swift had sprung the arrow, But swifter sprang the Gael.Whirling the one sword round his head, A great wheel in the sun, He sent it splendid through the sky, Flying before the shaft could fly— It smote Earl Harold over the eye, And blood began to run. Colan stood bare and weaponless, Earl Harold, as in pain, Strove for a smile, put hand to head, Stumbled and suddenly fell dead; And the small white daisies all waxed red With blood out of his brain. And all at that marvel of the sword, Cast like a stone to slay, Cried out. Said Alfred: "Who would see Signs, must give all things. Verily Man shall not taste of victory Till he throws his sword away." Then Alfred, prince of England, And all the Christian earls, Unhooked their swords and held them up, Each offered to Colan, like a cup Of chrysolite and pearls. And the King said, "Do thou take my sword Who have done this deed of fire, For this is the manner of Christian men, Whether of steel or priestly pen, That they cast their hearts out of their ken To get their heart's desire."

"Then Alfred, King of England, Bade blow the horns of war, And fling the Golden Dragon out, With crackle and acclaim and shout, Scrolled and aflame and far. And under the Golden Dragon Went Wessex all along, Past the sharp point of the cloven ways, Out from the black wood into the blaze Of sun and steel and song. And when they came to the open land They wheeled, deployed and stood; Midmost were Marcus and the King, And Eldred on the right-hand wing, And leftwards Colan darkling, In the last shade of the wood."

"Yet I could lie and listen With a cross upon my clay, And hear unhurt for ever What the trees of Britain say." A proud man was the Roman, His speech a single one, But his eyes were like an eagle's eyes That is staring at the sun. 'Dig for me where I die,' he said 'If first or last I fall - Dead on the fell at the first charge Or dead by Wantage wall;' 'Lift not my head from bloody ground, Bear not my body home, for all the earth is Roman earth and I shall die in Rome.'"

""Before the Romans lit the land, When schools and monks were none, We reared such stones to the sun-god As might put out the sun. "The tall trees of Britain We worshipped and were wise, But you shall raid the whole land through And never a tree shall talk to you, Though every leaf is a tongue taught true And the forest is full of eyes."

"And all were moved a little, But Colan stood apart, Having first pity, and after Hearing, like rat in rafter, That little worm of laughter That eats the Irish heart. And his grey-green eyes were cruel, And the smile of his mouth waxed hard, And he said, "And when did Britain Become your burying-yard?"

"I was a fool and wasted ale— My slaves found it sweet; I was a fool and wasted bread, And the birds had bread to eat. "The kings go up and the kings go down, And who knows who shall rule; Next night a king may starve or sleep, But men and birds and beasts shall weep At the burial of a fool. "O, drunkards in my cellar, Boys in my apple tree, The world grows stern and strange and new, And wise men shall govern you, And you shall weep for me. "But yoke me my own oxen, Down to my own farm; My own dog will whine for me, My own friends will bend the knee, And the foes I slew openly Have never wished me harm."

"People, if you have any prayers, Say prayers for me: And lay me under a Christian stone In that lost land I thought my own, To wait till the holy horn is blown, And all poor men are free."

"The live wood came at Guthrum, On foot and claw and wing, The nests were noisy overhead, For Alfred and the star of red, All life went forth, and the forest fled Before the face of the King. But halted in the woodways Christ's few were grim and grey, And each with a small, far, bird-like sight Saw the high folly of the fight; And though strange joys had grown in the night, Despair grew with the day."

"King Guthrum was a war-chief, A wise man in the field, And though he prospered well, and knew How Alfred's folk were sad and few, Not less with weighty care he drew Long lines for pike and shield."

"Follow a light that leaps and spins, Follow the fire unfurled! For riseth up against realm and rod, A thing forgotten, a thing downtrod, The last lost giant, even God, Is risen against the world."

"Then Alfred laughed out suddenly, Like thunder in the spring, Till shook aloud the lintel-beams, And the squirrels stirred in dusty dreams, And the startled birds went up in streams, For the laughter of the King. And the beasts of the earth and the birds looked down, In a wild solemnity, On a stranger sight than a sylph or elf, On one man laughing at himself Under the greenwood tree— The giant laughter of Christian men That roars through a thousand tales, Where greed is an ape and pride is an ass, And Jack's away with his master's lass, And the miser is banged with all his brass, The farmer with all his flails; Tales that tumble and tales that trick, Yet end not all in scorning— Of kings and clowns in a merry plight, And the clock gone wrong and the world gone right, That the mummers sing upon Christmas night And Christmas Day in the morning. "Now here is a good warrant," Cried Alfred, "by my sword; For he that is struck for an ill servant Should be a kind lord. "He that has been a servant Knows more than priests and kings, But he that has been an ill servant, He knows all earthly things. "Pride flings frail palaces at the sky, As a man flings up sand, But the firm feet of humility Take hold of heavy land."Pride juggles with her toppling towers, They strike the sun and cease, But the firm feet of humility They grip the ground like trees. "He that hath failed in a little thing Hath a sign upon the brow; And the Earls of the Great Army Have no such seal to show."

""But even though such days endure, How shall it profit her? Who shall go groaning to the grave, With many a meek and mighty slave, Field-breaker and fisher on the wave, And woodman and waggoner. "Bake ye the big world all again A cake with kinder leaven; Yet these are sorry evermore— Unless there be a little door, A little door in heaven." And as he wept for the woman He let her business be, And like his royal oath and rash The good food fell upon the ash And blackened instantly. Screaming, the woman caught a cake Yet burning from the bar, And struck him suddenly on the face, Leaving a scarlet scar. King Alfred stood up wordless, A man dead with surprise, And torture stood and the evil things That are in the childish hearts of kings An instant in his eyes."

""On things half sprung from sleeping, All sleepy suns have shone, They stretch stiff arms, the yawning trees, The beasts blink upon hands and knees, Man is awake and does and sees— But Heaven has done and gone.For who shall guess the good riddle Or speak of the Holiest, Save in faint figures and failing words, Who loves, yet laughs among the swords, Labours, and is at rest? "But some see God like Guthrum, Crowned, with a great beard curled, But I see God like a good giant, That, labouring, lifts the world. "Wherefore was God in Golgotha, Slain as a serf is slain; And hate He had of prince and peer, And love He had and made good cheer, Of them that, like this woman here, Go powerfully in pain. "But in this grey morn of man's life, Cometh sometime to the mind A little light that leaps and flies, Like a star blown on the wind. "A star of nowhere, a nameless star, A light that spins and swirls, And cries that even in hedge and hill, Even on earth, it may go ill At last with the evil earls. "A dancing sparkle, a doubtful star, On the waste wind whirled and driven; But it seems to sing of a wilder worth, A time discrowned of doom and birth, And the kingdom of the poor on earth Come, as it is in heaven."

"Did not a great grey servant Of all my sires and me, Build this pavilion of the pines, And herd the fowls and fill the vines, And labour and pass and leave no signs Save mercy and mystery?"

"Alfred, bowing heavily, Sat down the fire to stir, And even as the woman pitied him So did he pity her. Saying, "O great heart in the night, O best cast forth for worst, Twilight shall melt and morning stir, And no kind thing shall come to her, Till God shall turn the world over And all the last are first. "And well may God with the serving-folk Cast in His dreadful lot; Is not He too a servant, And is not He forgot?"

"And the King, with harp on shoulder, Stood up and ceased his song; And the owls moaned from the mighty trees, And the Danes laughed loud and long."

"All things achieved and chosen pass, As the White Horse fades in the grass, No work of Christian men.Ere the sad gods that made your gods Saw their sad sunrise pass, The White Horse of the White Horse Vale, That you have left to darken and fail, Was cut out of the grass.Therefore your end is on you, Is on you and your kings, Not for a fire in Ely fen, Not that your gods are nine or ten, But because it is only Christian men Guard even heathen things.For our God hath blessed creation, Calling it good. I know What spirit with whom you blindly band Hath blessed destruction with his hand; Yet by God's death the stars shall stand And the small apples grow."

"On you is fallen the shadow, And not upon the Name; That though we scatter and though we fly, And you hang over us like the sky, You are more tired of victory, Than we are tired of shame. "That though you hunt the Christian man Like a hare on the hill-side, The hare has still more heart to run Than you have heart to ride. "That though all lances split on you, All swords be heaved in vain, We have more lust again to lose Than you to win again."

"When shrieking souls as shafts go by And many have died and all may die; Though this word be a mystery, Death is most distant then."

"For he sang of a wheel returning, And the mire trod back to mire, And how red hells and golden heavens Are castles in the fire. "It is good to sit where the good tales go, To sit as our fathers sat; But the hour shall come after his youth, When a man shall know not tales but truth, And his heart fail thereat. When he shall read what is written So plain in clouds and clods, When he shall hunger without hope Even for evil gods. For this is a heavy matter, And the truth is cold to tell; Do we not know, have we not heard, The soul is like a lost bird, The body a broken shell."

"He said, "I am older than you, Ogier; Not all things would I rend, For whether life be bad or good It is best to abide the end.""

"And in the last eclipse the sea Shall stand up like a tower, Above all moons made dark and riven, Hold up its foaming head in heaven, And laugh, knowing its hour."

"You sing of the young gods easily In the days when you are young; But I go smelling yew and sods, And I know there are gods behind the gods, Gods that are best unsung."

"The mighty people, womanlike, That have pleasure in their pain As he sang of Balder beautiful, Whom the heavens loved in vain.As he sang of Balder beautiful, Whom the heavens could not save, Till the world was like a sea of tears And every soul a wave.There is always a thing forgotten When all the world goes well; A thing forgotten, as long ago, When the gods forgot the mistletoe, And soundless as an arrow of snow The arrow of anguish fell. The thing on the blind side of the heart, On the wrong side of the door, The green plant groweth, menacing Almighty lovers in the spring; There is always a forgotten thing, And love is not secure."

"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."

"And as he went by White Horse Vale He saw lie wan and wide The old horse graven, God knows when, By gods or beasts or what things then Walked a new world instead of men And scrawled on the hill-side. And when he came to White Horse Down The great White Horse was grey, For it was ill scoured of the weed, And lichen and thorn could crawl and feed, Since the foes of settled house and creed Had swept old works away."

"By the yawning tree in the twilight The King unbound his sword, Severed the harp of all his goods, And there in the cool and soundless woods Sounded a single chord. Then laughed; and watched the finches flash, The sullen flies in swarm, And went unarmed over the hills, With the harp upon his arm, Until he came to the White Horse Vale."

""Seek ye a fable More dizzy and more dread Than all your mad barbarian tales Where the sky stands on its head ? "A tale where a man looks down on the sky That has long looked down on him; A tale where a man can swallow a sea That might swallow the seraphim. "Bring to the hut by Egbert's Stone All bills and bows ye have." And Alfred strode off rapidly, And Colan of the Sacred Tree Went slowly to his cave."

"Lifting the great green ivy And the great spear lowering, One said, "I am Alfred of Wessex, And I am a conquered king." And the man of the cave made answer, And his eyes were stars of scorn, "And better kings were conquered Or ever your sires were born. "What goddess was your mother, What fay your breed begot, That you should not die with Uther And Arthur and Lancelot?"

"He made the sign of the cross of God, He knew the Roman prayer, But he had unreason in his heart Because of the gods that were. Even they that walked on the high cliffs, High as the clouds were then, Gods of unbearable beauty, That broke the hearts of men."

"His harp was carved and cunning, As the Celtic craftsman makes, Graven all over with twisting shapes Like many headless snakes. His harp was carved and cunning, His sword prompt and sharp, And he was gay when he held the sword, Sad when he held the harp. For the great Gaels of Ireland Are the men that God made mad, For all their wars are merry, And all their songs are sad."

""If each man on the Judgment Day Meet God on a plain alone," Said Alfred, "I will speak for you As for myself, and call it true That you brought all fighting folk you knew Lined under Egbert's Stone."

"I am that oft-defeated King Whose failure fills the land, Who fled before the Danes of old, Who chaffered with the Danes with gold, Who now upon the Wessex wold Hardly has feet to stand. "But out of the mouth of the Mother of God I have seen the truth like fire, This—that the sky grows darker yet And the sea rises higher."

"And Alfred answered, drinking, And gravely, without blame, "Nor bear I boast of scald or king, The thing I bear is a lesser thing, But comes in a better name. "Out of the mouth of the Mother of God, More than the doors of doom, I call the muster of Wessex men From grassy hamlet or ditch or den, To break and be broken, God knows when, But I have seen for whom. Out of the mouth of the Mother of God Like a little word come I; For I go gathering Christian men From sunken paving and ford and fen, To die in a battle, God knows when, By God, but I know why.And this is the word of Mary, The word of the world's desire No more of comfort shall ye get, Save that the sky grows darker yet And the sea rises higher.""

"Why should my harmless hinds be slain Because the chiefs cry once again, As in all fights, that we shall gain, And in all fights we fail? "Your scalds still thunder and prophesy That crown that never comes; Friend, I will watch the certain things, Swine, and slow moons like silver rings, And the ripening of the plums.""

"Up across windy wastes and up Went Alfred over the shaws, Shaken of the joy of giants, The joy without a cause."

"But you and all the kind of Christ Are ignorant and brave, And you have wars you hardly win And souls you hardly save. "I tell you naught for your comfort, Yea, naught for your desire, Save that the sky grows darker yet And the sea rises higher." "Night shall be thrice night over you, And heaven an iron cope. Do you have joy without a cause, Yea, faith without a hope?"

""The gates of heaven are lightly locked, We do not guard our gold, Men may uproot where worlds begin, Or read the name of the nameless sin; But if he fail or if he win To no good man is told."

""And any little maid that walks In good thoughts apart, May break the guard of the Three Kings And see the dear and dreadful things I hid within my heart."

""The gates of heaven are lightly locked, We do not guard our gain, The heaviest hind may easily Come silently and suddenly Upon me in a lane."

""The gates of heaven are fearful gates Worse than the gates of hell; Not I would break the splendours barred Or seek to know the thing they guard, Which is too good to tell."

""Mother of God," the wanderer said, "I am but a common king, Nor will I ask what saints may ask, To see a secret thing."

"And he saw in a little picture, Tiny and far away, His mother sitting in Egbert's hall, And a book she showed him, very small, Where a sapphire Mary sat in stall With a golden Christ at play."

"And naught was left King Alfred But shameful tears of rage, In the island in the river In the end of all his age."

"And the great kings of Wessex Wearied and sank in gore, And even their ghosts in that great stress Grew greyer and greyer, less and less, With the lords that died in Lyonesse And the king that comes no more."

"There was not English armour left, Nor any English thing, When Alfred came to Athelney To be an English king."

"He broke them with a broken sword A little towards the sea, And for one hour of panting peace, Ringed with a roar that would not cease, With golden crown and girded fleece Made laws under a tree."

"A sea-folk blinder than the sea Broke all about his land, But Alfred up against them bare And gripped the ground and grasped the air, Staggered, and strove to stand."

"For the end of the world was long ago, When the ends of the world waxed free, When Rome was sunk in a waste of slaves, And the sun drowned in the sea. When Caesar's sun fell out of the sky And whoso hearkened right Could only hear the plunging Of the nations in the night."