Yet there hath armour goodly sheen
The blossoms in the apple treen,
(To spell the Camelotian way)
Show fragrant through the doubtful day,
And Master's work is often seen
In Camelot!
Philistia
Philistia! Maids in muslin white
With flannelled oarsmen oft delight
To drift upon thy streams, and float
In Salter's most luxurious boat;
In buff and boots the cheery knight
Returns (quite safe) from Naseby fight;
Thy humblest folk are clean and bright,
Thou still must win the public vote,
Philistia!
Observe the High Church curate's coat,
The realistic hansom note!
Ah, happy land untouched of blight,
Smirks, Bishops, Babies, left and right,
We know thine every charm by rote,
Philistia!
THE BARBAROUS BIRD-GODS: A SAVAGE PARABASIS
In the Aves of Aristophanes, the Bird Chorus declare that they are
older than the Gods, and greater benefactors of men. This idea
recurs in almost all savage mythologies, and I have made the
savage Bird-gods state their own case.
The Birds sing:
We would have you to wit, that on eggs though we sit, and are
spiked on the spit, and are baked in the pan,
Birds are older by far than your ancestors are, and made love and
made war ere the making of Man!
For when all things were dark, not a glimmer nor spark, and the
world like a barque without rudder or sail
Floated on through the night, 'twas a Bird struck a light, 'twas a
flash from the bright feather'd Tonatiu's {3} tail!
Then the Hawk {4} with some dry wood flew up in the sky, and afar,
safe and high, the Hawk lit Sun and Moon,
And the Birds of the air they rejoiced everywhere, and they recked
not of care that should come on them soon.
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