Recessional by Rudyard Kipling (1897)
God of our fathers, known of old,
Lord of our far-flung battle-line,
Beneath whose awful Hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
The tumult and the shouting dies;
The Captains and the Kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
Far-called, our navies melt away;
On dune and headland sinks the fire:
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe,
Such boastings as the Gentiles use,
Or lesser breeds without the Law—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard,
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding, calls not Thee to guard,
For frantic boast and foolish word—
Thy mercy on Thy People, Lord!
Gerard Van der Leun
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Kipling had more irony in his littlest fingernail than . . . .
… Than Sir Rufus Isaacs?
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rufus_Isaacs%2C_1st_Marquess_of_Reading
Whence comest thou, Gehazi,
So reverend to behold,
In scarlet and in ermines
And chain of England’s gold?”
“From following after Naaman
To tell him all is well,
Whereby my zeal hath made me
A Judge in Israel.”
Well done; well done, Gehazi!
Stretch forth thy ready hand,
Thou barely ‘scaped from judgment,
Take oath to judge the land
Unswayed by gift of money
Or privy bribe, more base,
Of knowledge which is profit
In any market-place.
Search out and probe, Gehazi,
As thou of all carist try,
The truthful, well-weighed answer
That tells the blacker lie —
The loud, uneasy virtue
The anger feigned at will,
To overbear a witness
And make the Court keep still.
Take order now, Gehazi,
That no man talk aside
In secret with his judges
The while his case is tried.
Lest he should show them — reason
To keep a matter hid,
And subtly lead the questions
Away from what he did.
Thou mirror of uprightness,
What ails thee at thy vows?
What means the risen whiteness
Of the skin between thy brows?
The boils that shine and burrow,
The sores that slough and bleed —
The leprosy of Naaman
On thee and all thy seed?
Stand up, stand up, Gehazi,
Draw close thy robe and go,
Gehazi, Judge in Israel,
A leper white as snow!
The thing about Kipling’s Recessional is that he wrote it it at the very apogee of Empire, Queen V’s Diamond Jubilee in 1897. Before the Dreadnought Arms Race, before the Moroccan Crisis… Before the Second Boer War for that matter.
Wise.
Now who said what at the Bicentennial… or in 1989/90/91?
As for recent Presidential Inaugurations and accompanying Ooga Booga, I’d best keep silent.
includes wifi
https://landmarktrustusa.org/rudyard-kiplings-naulakha
I like to think of myself as well-read.
One needed to be far and above my level to get the implications of either of these poems. To write them, well. let’s just say above that level.
The UK National Trust lets you rent out everything from castles to a fisherman’s cottage in Scotland. You can also pay money to go work on one of those properties for a couple of weeks. But you might learn how to build a dry stone wall or a proper hedge.
I read 4 – 6 books a month. My IQ is 141. And still those poems are beyond me. I reckon that they are beyond my pay grade. I have come to realize that the ability to write and understand poetry is a gift, a gift I do not have.
Funny about IQ. About 20 years ago my wife had to measure IQ for some course she was taking. After she tested our kids and their friends, she needed one more. Me. I had been drinking most of the day and consented. She scored me, never told me the results, and has spoken to me slowly, with small words, since then. Now and then, I mumble just to keep her in proper form. But not surprised to hear you’re so intelligent, Mike.