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DJSmurf
Fri Jul 13 2001 at 15:59:58
THE SICK GOD
Thomas Hardy
-
Poems of Past and Present
I
In days when men had
joy of war
,
A God of Battles sped each
mortal
jar;
The peoples
pledge
d him heart and hand,
From
Israel
's land to isles afar.
II
His crimson form, with clang and chime,
Flashed on each murk and murderous meeting-time,
And kings invoked, for rape and raid,
His fearsome aid in
rune
and
rhyme
.
III
On
bruise
and blood-hole, scar and seam,
On
blade
and
bolt
, he flung his
fulgid
beam:
His
halo
es rayed the very gore,
And
corpse
s wore his
glory
-gleam.
IV
Often an early King or Queen,
And storied
hero
onward, knew his sheen;
'Twas glimpsed by Wolfe, by Ney anon,
And Nelson on his blue
demesne
.
V
But new light spread. That god's gold nimb
And blazon have waned dimmer and more dim;
Even his
flushed
form begins to fade,
Till but a
shade
is left of him.
VI
That modern
meditation
broke
His spell, that penmen's
pleading
s dealt a stroke,
Say some; and some that crimes too dire
Did much to mire his crimson cloak.
VII
Yea, seeds of crescive
sympathy
Were sown by those more excellent than he,
Long known, though long contemned till then -
The gods of men in amity.
VIII
Soul
s have grown seers, and thought out-brings
The mournful many-sidedness of things
With foes as friends,
enfeebling
ires
And fury-fires by gaingivings!
IX
He scarce impassions
champions
now;
They do and dare, but tensely--pale of brow;
And would they fain uplift the arm
Of that faint form they know not how.
X
Yet
wars arise
, though zest grows cold;
Wherefore, at whiles, as 'twere in ancient mould
He looms, bepatched with paint and
lath
;
But never hath he seemed the old!
XI
Let men
rejoice
, let men
deplore
.
The lurid
Deity
of heretofore
Succumbs to one of saner nod;
The Battle-god is god no more.
UK Big Brother 2004
Machtesh
Next Plane To London
Champions
degenerate
master