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Tommy Beavitt
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St George, Arise!
Saint George, Arise!
Let's not make a cult out of who is the greater!
Which of us here can in this way be saved?
Whose deeds are aligned to the will of Creator?
Love's royal road by what labour is paved?
The years that have flown by, decades, millennia –
What effort of memory could ever retain,
Steadfast, 'midst all the confusion of many a
Battle, his faith, and be reaped there like grain?
Oh no! Don't kill the dragon,
That's bound to our will by the slenderest of threads!
Go slow! Don't spill your flagon!
Take up your spear and restrain it instead!
To forget, in a world that has lost its Redeemer:
Such is the trivial business of men!
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When and with whom shall we fight the Blasphemer?
Will ever we see such a hero again?
Through ages of faith to progress by stages:
The thimbles of tricksters plied hither and thon.
In place of the truth, an abundance of pages;
Reliquaries groan from the weight thereupon.
Unenviable fate of the sacrificed martyr –
To fall at the stroke of your enemy's sword!
Or, mocked by the gales of imperious laughter,
To dance at the end of the hangman's dread cord!
Once more there are rumbles of hateful skullduggery –
Disgrace of our weakness that liars connived.
Saint George, arise, confront this foul thuggery!
The dragon you 'slew' has again been revived.
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