Читать книгу Lyra Celtica: An Anthology of Representative Celtic Poetry - Various - Страница 7
Оглавление“Till the soil—bid cities rise—
Be strong, O Celt—be rich, be wise—
But still, with those divine grave eyes,
Respect the realm of Mysteries.”
Let me conclude, then, in the words of the most recent of those many eager young Celtic writers whose songs and romances are charming the now intent mind of the Anglo-Saxon. “A doomed and passing race. Yes, but not wholly so. The Celt has at last reached his horizon. There is no shore beyond. He knows it. This has been the burden of his song since Malvina led the blind Oisìn to his grave by the sea. ‘Even the Children of Light must go down into darkness.’ But this apparition of a passing race is no more than the fulfilment of a glorious resurrection before our very eyes. For the genius of the Celtic race stands out now with averted torch, and the light of it is a glory before the eyes, and the flame of it is blown into the hearts of the mightier conquering people. The Celt falls, but his spirit rises in the heart and the brain of the Anglo-Celtic peoples, with whom are the destinies of the generations to come.”
WILLIAM SHARP.
Read these faint runes of Mystery, O Celt, at home and o’er the sea; The bond is loosed—the poor are free— The world’s great future rests with thee!
Till the soil—bid cities rise— Be strong, O Celt—be rich, be wise— But still, with those divine grave eyes, Respect the realm of Mysteries. The Book of Orm.
