You are here

قراءة كتاب Rada A Belgian Christmas Eve

تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"

‏اللغة: English
Rada
A Belgian Christmas Eve

Rada A Belgian Christmas Eve

تقييمك:
0
No votes yet
المؤلف:
دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
الصفحة رقم: 1


RADA


BY THE SAME AUTHOR

  • TALES OF THE MERMAID TAVERN
  • DRAKE
  • THE FOREST OF WILD THYME
  • FORTY SINGING SEAMEN
  • THE ENCHANTED ISLAND
  • THE WINE PRESS


THE BAYONETS


RADA
A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE

BY
ALFRED NOYES

WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS AFTER GOYA

METHUEN & CO. LTD.
36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
LONDON


First Published in 1915


DEDICATION

Thou whose deep ways are in the sea,
Whose footsteps are not known,
To-night a world that turned from Thee
Is waiting—at Thy Throne.
The towering Babels that we raised
Where scoffing sophists brawl,
The little Antichrists we praised—
The night is on them all.
The fool hath said ... The fool hath said ...
And we, who deemed him wise,
We, who believed that Thou wast dead,
How should we seek Thine eyes?
How should we seek to Thee for power,
Who scorned Thee yesterday?
How should we kneel in this dread hour?
Lord, teach us how to pray.
Grant us the single heart once more
That mocks no sacred thing,
The Sword of Truth our fathers wore
When Thou wast Lord and King.
Let darkness unto darkness tell
Our deep unspoken prayer;
For, while our souls in darkness dwell,
We know that Thou art there.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

THE BAYONETS Frontispiece
  FACING PAGE
OVER THE JAWS OF THE CROWD 16
THE OLD DANCE OF CHARLATANS AND BEASTS 22
THE VAMPIRE 56

Reproduced from etchings by Goya


[Pg viii]
[Pg 1]

PRELUDE

Under which banner? It was night
Beyond all nights that ever were.
The Cross was broken. Blood-stained Might
Moved like a tiger from its lair,
And all that heaven had died to quell
Awoke, and mingled earth with hell.
For Europe, if it held a creed,
Held it thro’ custom, not thro’ faith.
Chaos returned in dream and deed,
Right was a legend—Love, a wraith;
And That from which the world began
Was less than even the best in man.
God in the image of a snake
Dethroned that dream, too fond, too blind,
The man-shaped God whose heart could break,
Live, die and triumph with mankind;
A Super-snake, a Juggernaut,
Dethroned the Highest of human thought.
Choose, England! For the eternal foe
Within thee, as without, grew strong,
By many a super-subtle blow
Blurring the lines of right and wrong
In Art and Thought, till nought seemed true
But that soul-slaughtering cry of New!
New wreckage of the shrines we made
Thro’ centuries of forgotten tears....
We knew not where their hands had laid
Our Master. Twice a thousand years
Had dulled the uncapricious sun.
Manifold worlds obscured the One;
Obscured the reign of Law, our stay,
Our compass thro’ the uncharted sea,
The one sure light, the one sure way,
The one firm base of Liberty;
The one firm road that men have trod
Thro’ Chaos to the Throne of God.
Choose ye! A hundred legions cried
Dishonour, or the instant sword!
Ye chose. Ye met that blood-stained tide,
A little kingdom kept its word;
And, dying, cried across the night,
Hear us, O earth, we chose the Right.
Whose is the victory? Though ye stood
Alone against the unmeasured foe,
By all the tears, by all the blood,
That flowed, and have not ceased to flow,
By all the legions that ye hurled
Back thro’ the thunder-shaken world;
By the old that have not where to rest,
By lands laid waste and

Pages