Peter Me Arthur
(Ha ! Did I hear laughter from Hell at the sound of man s
wisdom?) .... It matters not ! My words are for you, O War God, as you stride beside
me in the fields! Your tramplings are thunder, the flash of your sword
the lightning ! Your voice is in the loud winds and blood falls from you
like rain ;
But I, a common man, shall speak your doom. Fool, Infinite Fool ! Why were you not content with your Pharoahs and
Alexanders, your Csesars and Napoleons With your conquerors and killers who made history a
shambles ? They sounded their trumpets and thrones shook at the
sound of them. They flung out their banners and warriors flocked to
them. They arrayed themselves in golden armour and made
war glorious.
Poets sang to them. Dancers danced before them. Scholars, Priests, Philosophers, Statesmen fawned on
them.
They boasted themselves as gods. The sun was their father, the moon their mother, And they claimed relationship with all the leading con stellations.
They fed you with hecatombs, glutted you with massacres. But while they exalted themselves the common man did
the work of the world Tilled the fields, dug the mines, shaped the armour, bore
the burdens,
Grumbled and paid taxes and took no thought of war. But today you have roused the common man. Mark, O War God !
You have today what the world never saw before. You have such armies as the world never saw before.
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