Chapter 2

LIIWhy do you strive for greatness, fool?Go pluck a bough and wear it.It is as sufficing.My lord, there are certain barbariansWho tilt their nosesAs if the stars were flowers,And thy servant is lost among their shoe-buckles.Fain would I have mine eyes even with their eyes.Fool, go pluck a bough and wear it.LIIIIBlustering god,Stamping across the skyWith loud swagger,I fear you not.No, though from your highest heavenYou plunge your spear at my heart,I fear you not.No, not if the blowIs as the lightning blasting a tree,I fear you not, puffing braggart.IIIf thou can see into my heartThat I fear thee not,Thou wilt see why I fear thee not,And why it is right.So threaten not, thou, with thy bloody spears,Else thy sublime ears shall hear curses.IIIWithal, there is one whom I fear;I fear to see grief upon that face.Perchance, Friend, he is not your god;If so, spit upon him.By it you will do no profanity.But I--Ah, sooner would I dieThan see tears in those eyes of my soul.LIV"It was wrong to do this," said the angel."You should live like a flower,"Holding malice like a puppy,"Waging war like a lambkin.""Not so," quoth the manWho had no fear of spirits;"It is only wrong for angels"Who can live like the flowers,"Holding malice like the puppies,"Waging war like the lambkins."LVA man toiled on a burning road,Never resting.Once he saw a fat, stupid assGrinning at him from a green place.The man cried out in rage,"Ah! Do not deride me, fool!"I know you--"All day stuffing your belly,"Burying your heart"In grass and tender sprouts:"It will not suffice you."But the ass only grinned at him from the green place.LVIA man feared that he might find an assassin;Another that he might find a victim.One was more wise than the other.LVIIWith eye and with gestureYou say you are holy.I say you lie;For I did see youDraw away your coatsFrom the sin upon the handsOf a little child.Liar!LVIIIThe sage lectured brilliantly.Before him, two images:"Now this one is a devil,"And this one is me."He turned away.Then a cunning pupilChanged the positions.Turned the sage again:"Now this one is a devil,"And this one is me."The pupils sat, all grinning,And rejoiced in the game.But the sage was a sage.LIXWalking in the sky,A man in strange black garbEncountered a radiant form.Then his steps were eager;Bowed he devoutly."My Lord," said he.But the spirit knew him not.LXUpon the road of my life,Passed me many fair creatures,Clothed all in white, and radiant.To one, finally, I made speech:"Who art thou?"But she, like the others,Kept cowled her face,And answered in haste, anxiously,"I am Good Deed, forsooth;"You have often seen me.""Not uncowled," I made reply.And with rash and strong hand,Though she resisted,I drew away the veilAnd gazed at the features of VanityShe, shamefaced, went on;And after I had mused a time,I said of myself,"Fool!"LXIIThere was a man and a womanWho sinned.Then did the man heap the punishmentAll upon the head of her,And went away gayly.IIThere was a man and a womanWho sinned.And the man stood with her.As upon her head, so upon his,Fell blow and blow,And all people screaming, "Fool!"He was a brave heart.IIIHe was a brave heart.Would you speak with him, friend?Well, he is dead,And there went your opportunity.Let it be your griefThat he is deadAnd your opportunity gone;For, in that, you were a coward.LXIIThere was a man who lived a life of fire.Even upon the fabric of time,Where purple becomes orangeAnd orange purple,This life glowed,A dire red stain, indelible;Yet when he was dead,He saw that he had not lived.LXIIIThere was a great cathedral.To solemn songs,A white processionMoved toward the altar.The chief man thereWas erect, and bore himself proudly.Yet some could see him cringe,As in a place of danger,Throwing frightened glances into the air,A-start at threatening faces of the past.LXIVFriend, your white beard sweeps the ground,Why do you stand, expectant?Do you hope to see itIn one of your withered days?With your old eyesDo you hope to seeThe triumphal march of Justice?Do not wait, friendTake your white beardAnd your old eyesTo more tender lands.LXVOnce, I knew a fine song,--It is true, believe me,--It was all of birds,And I held them in a basket;When I opened the wicket,Heavens! They all flew away.I cried, "Come back, little thoughts!"But they only laughed.They flew onUntil they were as sandThrown between me and the sky.LXVIIf I should cast off this tattered coat,And go free into the mighty sky;If I should find nothing thereBut a vast blue,Echoless, ignorant,--What then?LXVIIGod lay dead in Heaven;Angels sang the hymn of the end;Purple winds went moaning,Their wings drip-drippingWith bloodThat fell upon the earth.It, groaning thing,Turned black and sank.Then from the far cavernsOf dead sinsCame monsters, livid with desire.They fought,Wrangled over the world,A morsel.But of all sadness this was sad,--A woman's arms tried to shieldThe head of a sleeping manFrom the jaws of the final beast.LXVIIIA spirit spedThrough spaces of night;And as he sped, he called,"God! God!"He went through valleysOf black death-slime,Ever calling,"God! God!"Their echoesFrom crevice and cavernMocked him:"God! God! God!"Fleetly into the plains of spaceHe went, ever calling,"God! God!"Eventually, then, he screamed,Mad in denial,"Ah, there is no God!"A swift hand,A sword from the sky,Smote him,And he was dead.*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKTHE BLACK RIDERS AND OTHER LINES***

LII

Why do you strive for greatness, fool?Go pluck a bough and wear it.It is as sufficing.My lord, there are certain barbariansWho tilt their nosesAs if the stars were flowers,And thy servant is lost among their shoe-buckles.Fain would I have mine eyes even with their eyes.Fool, go pluck a bough and wear it.

Why do you strive for greatness, fool?Go pluck a bough and wear it.It is as sufficing.

Why do you strive for greatness, fool?

Go pluck a bough and wear it.

It is as sufficing.

My lord, there are certain barbariansWho tilt their nosesAs if the stars were flowers,And thy servant is lost among their shoe-buckles.Fain would I have mine eyes even with their eyes.

My lord, there are certain barbarians

Who tilt their noses

As if the stars were flowers,

And thy servant is lost among their shoe-buckles.

Fain would I have mine eyes even with their eyes.

Fool, go pluck a bough and wear it.

LIII

Blustering god,Stamping across the skyWith loud swagger,I fear you not.No, though from your highest heavenYou plunge your spear at my heart,I fear you not.No, not if the blowIs as the lightning blasting a tree,I fear you not, puffing braggart.

Blustering god,

Stamping across the sky

With loud swagger,

I fear you not.

No, though from your highest heaven

You plunge your spear at my heart,

I fear you not.

No, not if the blow

Is as the lightning blasting a tree,

I fear you not, puffing braggart.

If thou can see into my heartThat I fear thee not,Thou wilt see why I fear thee not,And why it is right.So threaten not, thou, with thy bloody spears,Else thy sublime ears shall hear curses.

If thou can see into my heart

That I fear thee not,

Thou wilt see why I fear thee not,

And why it is right.

So threaten not, thou, with thy bloody spears,

Else thy sublime ears shall hear curses.

III

Withal, there is one whom I fear;I fear to see grief upon that face.Perchance, Friend, he is not your god;If so, spit upon him.By it you will do no profanity.But I--Ah, sooner would I dieThan see tears in those eyes of my soul.

Withal, there is one whom I fear;

I fear to see grief upon that face.

Perchance, Friend, he is not your god;

If so, spit upon him.

By it you will do no profanity.

But I--

Ah, sooner would I die

Than see tears in those eyes of my soul.

LIV

"It was wrong to do this," said the angel."You should live like a flower,"Holding malice like a puppy,"Waging war like a lambkin.""Not so," quoth the manWho had no fear of spirits;"It is only wrong for angels"Who can live like the flowers,"Holding malice like the puppies,"Waging war like the lambkins."

"It was wrong to do this," said the angel."You should live like a flower,"Holding malice like a puppy,"Waging war like a lambkin."

"It was wrong to do this," said the angel.

"You should live like a flower,

"Holding malice like a puppy,

"Waging war like a lambkin."

"Not so," quoth the manWho had no fear of spirits;"It is only wrong for angels"Who can live like the flowers,"Holding malice like the puppies,"Waging war like the lambkins."

"Not so," quoth the man

Who had no fear of spirits;

"It is only wrong for angels

"Who can live like the flowers,

"Holding malice like the puppies,

"Waging war like the lambkins."

A man toiled on a burning road,Never resting.Once he saw a fat, stupid assGrinning at him from a green place.The man cried out in rage,"Ah! Do not deride me, fool!"I know you--"All day stuffing your belly,"Burying your heart"In grass and tender sprouts:"It will not suffice you."But the ass only grinned at him from the green place.

A man toiled on a burning road,

Never resting.

Once he saw a fat, stupid ass

Grinning at him from a green place.

The man cried out in rage,

"Ah! Do not deride me, fool!

"I know you--

"All day stuffing your belly,

"Burying your heart

"In grass and tender sprouts:

"It will not suffice you."

But the ass only grinned at him from the green place.

LVI

A man feared that he might find an assassin;Another that he might find a victim.One was more wise than the other.

A man feared that he might find an assassin;

Another that he might find a victim.

One was more wise than the other.

LVII

With eye and with gestureYou say you are holy.I say you lie;For I did see youDraw away your coatsFrom the sin upon the handsOf a little child.Liar!

With eye and with gesture

You say you are holy.

I say you lie;

For I did see you

Draw away your coats

From the sin upon the hands

Of a little child.

Liar!

LVIII

The sage lectured brilliantly.Before him, two images:"Now this one is a devil,"And this one is me."He turned away.Then a cunning pupilChanged the positions.Turned the sage again:"Now this one is a devil,"And this one is me."The pupils sat, all grinning,And rejoiced in the game.But the sage was a sage.

The sage lectured brilliantly.

Before him, two images:

"Now this one is a devil,

"And this one is me."

He turned away.

Then a cunning pupil

Changed the positions.

Turned the sage again:

"Now this one is a devil,

"And this one is me."

The pupils sat, all grinning,

And rejoiced in the game.

But the sage was a sage.

LIX

Walking in the sky,A man in strange black garbEncountered a radiant form.Then his steps were eager;Bowed he devoutly."My Lord," said he.But the spirit knew him not.

Walking in the sky,

A man in strange black garb

Encountered a radiant form.

Then his steps were eager;

Bowed he devoutly.

"My Lord," said he.

But the spirit knew him not.

Upon the road of my life,Passed me many fair creatures,Clothed all in white, and radiant.To one, finally, I made speech:"Who art thou?"But she, like the others,Kept cowled her face,And answered in haste, anxiously,"I am Good Deed, forsooth;"You have often seen me.""Not uncowled," I made reply.And with rash and strong hand,Though she resisted,I drew away the veilAnd gazed at the features of VanityShe, shamefaced, went on;And after I had mused a time,I said of myself,"Fool!"

Upon the road of my life,

Passed me many fair creatures,

Clothed all in white, and radiant.

To one, finally, I made speech:

"Who art thou?"

But she, like the others,

Kept cowled her face,

And answered in haste, anxiously,

"I am Good Deed, forsooth;

"You have often seen me."

"Not uncowled," I made reply.

And with rash and strong hand,

Though she resisted,

I drew away the veil

And gazed at the features of Vanity

She, shamefaced, went on;

And after I had mused a time,

I said of myself,

"Fool!"

LXI

There was a man and a womanWho sinned.Then did the man heap the punishmentAll upon the head of her,And went away gayly.

There was a man and a woman

Who sinned.

Then did the man heap the punishment

All upon the head of her,

And went away gayly.

There was a man and a womanWho sinned.And the man stood with her.As upon her head, so upon his,Fell blow and blow,And all people screaming, "Fool!"He was a brave heart.

There was a man and a woman

Who sinned.

And the man stood with her.

As upon her head, so upon his,

Fell blow and blow,

And all people screaming, "Fool!"

He was a brave heart.

III

He was a brave heart.Would you speak with him, friend?Well, he is dead,And there went your opportunity.Let it be your griefThat he is deadAnd your opportunity gone;For, in that, you were a coward.

He was a brave heart.

Would you speak with him, friend?

Well, he is dead,

And there went your opportunity.

Let it be your grief

That he is dead

And your opportunity gone;

For, in that, you were a coward.

LXII

There was a man who lived a life of fire.Even upon the fabric of time,Where purple becomes orangeAnd orange purple,This life glowed,A dire red stain, indelible;Yet when he was dead,He saw that he had not lived.

There was a man who lived a life of fire.

Even upon the fabric of time,

Where purple becomes orange

And orange purple,

This life glowed,

A dire red stain, indelible;

Yet when he was dead,

He saw that he had not lived.

LXIII

There was a great cathedral.To solemn songs,A white processionMoved toward the altar.The chief man thereWas erect, and bore himself proudly.Yet some could see him cringe,As in a place of danger,Throwing frightened glances into the air,A-start at threatening faces of the past.

There was a great cathedral.

To solemn songs,

A white procession

Moved toward the altar.

The chief man there

Was erect, and bore himself proudly.

Yet some could see him cringe,

As in a place of danger,

Throwing frightened glances into the air,

A-start at threatening faces of the past.

LXIV

Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground,Why do you stand, expectant?Do you hope to see itIn one of your withered days?With your old eyesDo you hope to seeThe triumphal march of Justice?Do not wait, friendTake your white beardAnd your old eyesTo more tender lands.

Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground,

Why do you stand, expectant?

Do you hope to see it

In one of your withered days?

With your old eyes

Do you hope to see

The triumphal march of Justice?

Do not wait, friend

Take your white beard

And your old eyes

To more tender lands.

LXV

Once, I knew a fine song,--It is true, believe me,--It was all of birds,And I held them in a basket;When I opened the wicket,Heavens! They all flew away.I cried, "Come back, little thoughts!"But they only laughed.They flew onUntil they were as sandThrown between me and the sky.

Once, I knew a fine song,

--It is true, believe me,--

It was all of birds,

And I held them in a basket;

When I opened the wicket,

Heavens! They all flew away.

I cried, "Come back, little thoughts!"

But they only laughed.

They flew on

Until they were as sand

Thrown between me and the sky.

LXVI

If I should cast off this tattered coat,And go free into the mighty sky;If I should find nothing thereBut a vast blue,Echoless, ignorant,--What then?

If I should cast off this tattered coat,

And go free into the mighty sky;

If I should find nothing there

But a vast blue,

Echoless, ignorant,--

What then?

LXVII

God lay dead in Heaven;Angels sang the hymn of the end;Purple winds went moaning,Their wings drip-drippingWith bloodThat fell upon the earth.It, groaning thing,Turned black and sank.Then from the far cavernsOf dead sinsCame monsters, livid with desire.They fought,Wrangled over the world,A morsel.But of all sadness this was sad,--A woman's arms tried to shieldThe head of a sleeping manFrom the jaws of the final beast.

God lay dead in Heaven;

Angels sang the hymn of the end;

Purple winds went moaning,

Their wings drip-dripping

With blood

That fell upon the earth.

It, groaning thing,

Turned black and sank.

Then from the far caverns

Of dead sins

Came monsters, livid with desire.

They fought,

Wrangled over the world,

A morsel.

But of all sadness this was sad,--

A woman's arms tried to shield

The head of a sleeping man

From the jaws of the final beast.

LXVIII

A spirit spedThrough spaces of night;And as he sped, he called,"God! God!"He went through valleysOf black death-slime,Ever calling,"God! God!"Their echoesFrom crevice and cavernMocked him:"God! God! God!"Fleetly into the plains of spaceHe went, ever calling,"God! God!"Eventually, then, he screamed,Mad in denial,"Ah, there is no God!"A swift hand,A sword from the sky,Smote him,And he was dead.

A spirit sped

Through spaces of night;

And as he sped, he called,

"God! God!"

He went through valleys

Of black death-slime,

Ever calling,

"God! God!"

Their echoes

From crevice and cavern

Mocked him:

"God! God! God!"

Fleetly into the plains of space

He went, ever calling,

"God! God!"

Eventually, then, he screamed,

Mad in denial,

"Ah, there is no God!"

A swift hand,A sword from the sky,Smote him,And he was dead.

A swift hand,

A sword from the sky,

Smote him,

And he was dead.

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKTHE BLACK RIDERS AND OTHER LINES***

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