The Ballad of the White Horse. Gilbert Keith Chesterton

His harp was carved and cunning,

                His sword prompt and sharp,

                And he was gay when he held the sword,

                Sad when he held the harp.

                For the great Gaels of Ireland

                Are the men that God made mad,

                For all their wars are merry,

                And all their songs are sad.

                He kept the Roman order,

                He made the Christian sign;

                But his eyes grew often blind and bright,

                And the sea that rose in the rocks at night

                Rose to his head like wine.

                He made the sign of the cross of God,

                He knew the Roman prayer,

                But he had unreason in his heart

                Because of the gods that were.

                Even they that walked on the high cliffs,

                High as the clouds were then,

                Gods of unbearable beauty,

                That broke the hearts of men.

                And whether in seat or saddle,

                Whether with frown or smile,

                Whether at feast or fight was he,

                He heard the noise of a nameless sea

                On an undiscovered isle.

                Lifting the great green ivy

                And the great spear lowering,

                One said, "I am Alfred of Wessex,

                And I am a conquered king."

                And the man of the cave made answer,

                And his eyes were stars of scorn,

                "And better kings were conquered

                Or ever your sires were born.

                "What goddess was your mother,

                What fay your breed begot,

                That you should not die with Uther

                And Arthur and Lancelot?

                "But when you win you brag and blow,

                And when you lose you rail,

                Army of eastland yokels