Thus Spoke the Platypus

Kev posted this on his blog a while back, but after reading Nietzsche's "Ecce Homo" this past week, I think it's time for a reappearance.

O God of earth and altar,
Bow down and hear our cry,
Our earthly rulers falter,
Our people drift and die;

The walls of gold entomb us,
The swords of scorn divide,
Take not thy thunder from us,
But take away our pride.

From all that terror teaches,
From lies of tongue and pen,
From all the easy speeches
That comfort cruel men,

From sale and profanation
Of honour and the sword,
From sleep and from damnation,
Deliver us, good Lord.

Tie in a living tether
The prince and priest and thrall,
Bind all our lives together,
Smite us and save us all;

In ire and exultation
Aflame with faith, and free,
Lift up a living nation,
A single sword to thee.

-G.K. Chesterton

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The Platypus Reads Part XXVII

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After spending a few weeks wrestling with Tolkien's interpretation of Beowulf , I found myself sitting down and reading Seamus Heaney's translation of the text during a spare moment. I came to the place where Beowulf presents Hrothgar with the hilt of the ancient sword that slew Grendel's mother. Hrothgar looks down at the hilt with its ancient runes and carvings depicting the war between the giants and God and meditates on the fortunes of men. In a flash of insight, I thought: this is the whole poem! Let me explain. Tolkien believed that the genuine contribution of the Northern peoples to European culture was the theory of courage. The Northern heroes, at their best, were men who fought for order against chaos -a battle they knew they were doomed to lose. If they were true heroes, their souls would join the gods and aid them in the final battle against darkness and its monsters and again go down fighting, spitting in the face of the meaninglessness...

Platypus of Truth

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