The Years Between Part 8

Oh ye who hold the written clue To all save all unwritten things, And, half a league behind, pursue The accomplished Fact with flouts and flings, Look! To your knee your baby brings The oldest tale since Earth began-- The answer to your worryings _'Once on a time there was a Man.'_

He, single-handed, met and slew Magicians, Armies, Ogres, Kings.

He lonely 'mid his doubting crew-- 'In all the loneliness of wings'-- He fed the flame, he filled the springs, He locked the ranks, he launched the van Straight at the grinning Teeth of Things.

_'Once on a time there was a Man.'_

The peace of shocked Foundations flew Before his ribald questionings.

He broke the Oracles in two, And bared the paltry wires and strings.

He headed desert wanderings, He led his soul, his cause, his clan A little from the ruck of Things.

_'Once on a time there was a Man.'_

Thrones, Powers, Dominions block the view With episodes and underlings-- The meek historian deems them true Nor heeds the song that Clio sings-- The simple central truth that stings The mob to boo, the priest to ban; _Things never yet created things-- 'Once on a time there was a Man.'_

A bolt is fallen from the blue.

A wakened realm full circle swings Where Dothan's dreamer dreams anew Of vast and farborne harvestings; And unto him an Empire clings That grips the purpose of his plan.

My Lords, how think you of these things?

_Once--in our time--is there a Man?_

THE BENEFACTORS

_Ah! What avails the cla.s.sic bent And what the cultured word, Against the undoctored incident That actually occurred?_

_And what is Art whereto we press Through paint and prose and rhyme-- When Nature in her nakedness Defeats us every time?_

It is not learning, grace nor gear, Nor easy meat and drink, But bitter pinch of pain and fear That makes creation think.

When in this world's unpleasing youth Our G.o.d-like race began, The longest arm, the sharpest tooth, Gave man control of man;

Till, bruised and bitten to the bone And taught by pain and fear, He learned to deal the far-off stone, And poke the long, safe spear.

So tooth and nail were obsolete As means against a foe, Till, bored by uniform defeat, Some genius built the bow.

Then stone and javelin proved as vain As old-time tooth and nail, Ere, spurred anew by fear and pain, Man fashioned coats of mail.

Then was there safety for the rich And danger for the poor, Till someone mixed a powder which Redressed the scale once more.

Helmet and armour disappeared With sword and bow and pike, And, when the smoke of battle cleared, All men were armed alike....

And when ten million such were slain To please one crazy king, Man, schooled in bulk by fear and pain, Grew weary of the thing;

And, at the very hour designed, To enslave him past recall, His tooth-stone-arrow-gun-shy mind Turned and abolished all.

_All Power, each Tyrant, every Mob Whose head has grown too large, Ends by destroying its own job And earns its own discharge._

_And Man, whose mere necessities Move all things from his path, Trembles meanwhile at their decrees, And deprecates their wrath!_

THE DEAD KING

(EDWARD VII.)

1910

_Who in the Realm to-day lays down dear life for the sake of a land more dear?

And, unconcerned for his own estate, toils till the last grudged sands have run?

Let him approach. It is proven here Our King asks nothing of any man more than Our King himself has done._

For to him above all was Life good, above all he commanded Her abundance full-handed.

The peculiar treasure of Kings was his for the taking: All that men come to in dreams he inherited waking:--

His marvel of world-gathered armies--one heart and all races, His seas 'neath his keels when his war-castles foamed to their places; The thundering foresh.o.r.es that answered his heralded landing; The huge lighted cities adoring, the a.s.semblies upstanding; The Councils of Kings called in haste to learn how he was minded-- The Kingdoms, the Powers, and the Glories he dealt with unblinded.

To him came all captains of men, all achievers of glory, Hot from the press of their battles they told him their story.

They revealed him their life in an hour and, saluting, departed, Joyful to labour afresh--he had made them new-hearted.

And, since he weighed men from his youth, and no lie long deceived him, He spoke and exacted the truth, and the basest believed him.

And G.o.d poured him an exquisite wine, that was daily renewed to him, In the clear-welling love of his peoples that daily accrued to him.

Honour and service we gave him, rejoicingly fearless; Faith absolute, trust beyond speech and a friendship as peerless.

And since he was Master and Servant in all that we asked him, We leaned hard on his wisdom in all things, knowing not how we tasked him.

For on Him each new day laid command, every tyrannous hour, To confront, or confirm, or make smooth some dread issue of power; To deliver true judgment aright at the instant, unaided, In the strict, level, ultimate phrase that allowed or dissuaded; To foresee, to allay, to avert from us perils unnumbered, To stand guard on our gates when he guessed that the watchmen had slumbered; To win time, to turn hate, to woo folly to service and, mightily schooling His strength to the use of his Nations, to rule as not ruling.

These were the works of our King; Earth's peace was the proof of them.

G.o.d gave him great works to fulfil, and to us the behoof of them.

We accepted his toil as our right--none spared, none excused him.

When he was bowed by his burden his rest was refused him.

We troubled his age with our weakness--the blacker our shame to us!

Hearing his People had need of him, straightway he came to us.

As he received so he gave--nothing grudged, naught denying, Not even the last gasp of his breath when he strove for us, dying For our sakes, without question, he put from him all that he cherished.

Simply as any that serve him he served and he perished.

All that Kings covet was his, and he flung it aside for us.

Simply as any that die in his service he died for us.

_Who in the Realm to-day has choice of the easy road or the hard to tread?

And, much concerned for his own estate, would sell his soul to remain in the sun?

Let him depart nor look on Our dead.

Our King asks nothing of any man more than Our King himself has done._