Classic and Contemporary Poetry
BELTANE (FIRE OF GOD), by MARGARETTE BALL DICKSON First Line: Red flares the pile with the flames mounting higher Last Line: God of the fire rides forth at the dawn! Subject(s): Battleships; Death; Fire; War; Dead, The | ||||||||
Red flares the pile with the flames mounting higher, Turning to copper November's lead sky; Flames such as Dido sent forth from her pyre, Lighting Aeneas and sending soul-cry Forth on the waters turned flame with the glowing As the huge billows tossed ruby red spray, So the low clouds, scudding hither are showing Scarlet and crimson, entwisted with gray. Pile the wood higher! The mistletoe clinging To that huge oak on the rim of the cairn, Lately, was found. See the stones men are bringing, From the huge crags of some mountain were borne. Pattern the Cromlech with high-tabled altar; Ray the huge stones from the centre afar; Rend some huge monolith. Nay, never falter Till stones are lodged at each point of the star! Full thirty yards from the centre, outflowing, Ray the huge arms of this pattern of praise. Glory to Be-al, the One, the All-knowing! Pile the wood higher to honor his ways! Mistletoe, sent as the plant of all-healing; Mistletoe, beautiful, precious, long-sought ... See! The white bulls with their burdens are reeling Bearing the victims so loth to be brought. There, white-robed priests to their gods are appealing That so rich sacrifice be not in vain; Here, frantic mothers their farewells are sealing To the sad victims so soon to be slain. Up in the tree-tops, the Druids are cutting Branches of mistletoe; gold sickles gleam; Down-dropped, the branches are caught (up-ward jutting) In the white mantles of priests. Like a dream Flows the grim pageantry. Smoke spirals screen it. After the sacrifice, bright coals we take Off the grim altar where late we have seen it With all its portents. The home-altar wake: All the hearth-fires put out at our leaving, Wake once again into blaze while we sing Many old chants of our loving and grieving; Many old battles where glory held swing! High on the altar was wrought a huge creature; Hollow of form, made of boughs interlaced. Into this mold lay the victims! Some teacher Of the dim past taught that sacrifice graced Battles to come; so the whole must be lighted, For fair Bonduca leads now in the wars Against Suetonious. Rome must be frighted And all her legions hurled forth from our doors! Pile the wood higher! Go on with the straining! Heralds will blow their wild trumpets at dawn; Rome's weakened hosts are of hunger complaining Pile the wood higher, the struggle is on! Shall we bow down to proud Rome and her eagles? Shall we bend knee to the Tiber again? Or shall we live as untamed as the sea gulls? Pile the wood higher, and quit ye like men. Over the flames, bits of mistletoe, brewing Melt into potions of healing and power; Up on the rafters old mistletoe strewing Keeps off the evils of some darkened hour. Pile the wood higher! Our bards shall re-waken All of the glory of ages long gone. Pile the wood higher! for Ba-el the Unshaken, God of the Fire rides forth at the Dawn! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FRIEND KILLED IN THE WAR by ANTHONY HECHT FOR JAMES MERRILL: AN ADIEU by ANTHONY HECHT TARANTULA: OR THE DANCE OF DEATH by ANTHONY HECHT CHAMPS D?ÇÖHONNEUR by ERNEST HEMINGWAY NOTE TO REALITY by TONY HOAGLAND A NEW YEAR'S SYMPHONY by MARGARETTE BALL DICKSON APPLES OF GOLD IN A NETWORK OF SILVER (FOR A FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY) by MARGARETTE BALL DICKSON |
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