Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Henry Newbolt. b. 1862860. He fell among Thieves
‘YE have robb’d,’ said he, ‘ye have slaughter’d and made an end, | |
Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead: | |
What will ye more of your guest and sometime friend?’ | |
‘Blood for our blood,’ they said. | |
He laugh’d: ‘If one may settle the score for five, | 5 |
I am ready; but let the reckoning stand till day: | |
I have loved the sunlight as dearly as any alive.’ | |
‘You shall die at dawn,’ said they. | |
He flung his empty revolver down the slope, | |
He climb’d alone to the Eastward edge of the trees; | 10 |
All night long in a dream untroubled of hope | |
He brooded, clasping his knees. | |
He did not hear the monotonous roar that fills | |
The ravine where the Yassîn river sullenly flows; | |
He did not see the starlight on the Laspur hills, | 15 |
Or the far Afghan snows. | |
He saw the April noon on his books aglow, | |
The wistaria trailing in at the window wide; | |
He heard his father’s voice from the terrace below | |
Calling him down to ride. | 20 |
He saw the gray little church across the park, | |
The mounds that hid the loved and honour’d dead; | |
The Norman arch, the chancel softly dark, | |
The brasses black and red. | |
He saw the School Close, sunny and green, | 25 |
The runner beside him, the stand by the parapet wall, | |
The distant tape, and the crowd roaring between, | |
His own name over all. | |
He saw the dark wainscot and timber’d roof, | |
The long tables, and the faces merry and keen; | 30 |
The College Eight and their trainer dining aloof, | |
The Dons on the daïs serene. | |
He watch’d the liner’s stem ploughing the foam, | |
He felt her trembling speed and the thrash of her screw; | |
He heard the passengers’ voices talking of home, | 35 |
He saw the flag she flew. | |
And now it was dawn. He rose strong on his feet, | |
And strode to his ruin’d camp below the wood; | |
He drank the breath of the morning cool and sweet: | |
His murderers round him stood. | 40 |
Light on the Laspur hills was broadening fast, | |
The blood-red snow-peaks chill’d to a dazzling white; | |
He turn’d, and saw the golden circle at last, | |
Cut by the Eastern height. | |
‘O glorious Life, Who dwellest in earth and sun, | 45 |
I have lived, I praise and adore Thee.’ | |
A sword swept. | |
Over the pass the voices one by one | |
Faded, and the hill slept. |