 | Lays of France |  |
And some can tell
How, while they fought and neither fell,
The fiend did mock the man and said:
How long wilt thou contend with me,
A day, a year, a century?—
That thou art come to me arrayed
In this frail garb of flesh and blood,
And with these arms, as man to strive
For some dull perishable good
With man; or, thinkest thou to drive
Back to the grave this soul of mine
That brake the grave asunder? Yea,
Look on my soul and think if thine
May fight for an eternal thing
With me eternal?
How, while they fought and neither fell,
The fiend did mock the man and said:
How long wilt thou contend with me,
A day, a year, a century?—
That thou art come to me arrayed
In this frail garb of flesh and blood,
And with these arms, as man to strive
For some dull perishable good
With man; or, thinkest thou to drive
Back to the grave this soul of mine
That brake the grave asunder? Yea,
Look on my soul and think if thine
May fight for an eternal thing
With me eternal?
| Lays of France | |