V. Life in Trenches on the Mountain Side
VI. The Common Task of a Great People
France
By Rudyard Kipling
Broke to every known mischance, lifted over all By the light sane joy of life, the buckler of the Gaul, Furious in luxury, merciless in toil, Terrible with strength that draws from her tireless soil, Strictest judge of her own worth, gentlest of men's mind, First to follow truth and last to leave old truths behind— France beloved of every soul that loves its fellow-kind.
Ere our birth (rememberest thou?) side
by side we lay
Fretting in the womb of Rome to begin
the fray.
Ere men knew our tongues apart, our one
taste was known—
Each must mould the other's fate as he
wrought his own.
To this end we stirred mankind till all
earth was ours,
Till our world-end strifes began wayside
thrones and powers,
Puppets that we made or broke to bar
the other's path—
Necessary, outpost folk, hirelings of our
wrath.
To this end we stormed the seas, tack for
tack, and burst
Through the doorways of new worlds,
doubtful which was first.
Hand on hilt (rememberest thou?), ready
for the blow.
Sure whatever else we met we should
meet our foe.
Spurred or baulked at ev'ry stride by the
other's strength,
So we rode the ages down and every ocean's
length;
Where did you refrain from us or we
refrain from you?
Ask the wave that has not watched war
between us two.
Others held us for a while, but with
weaker charms,
These we quitted at the call for each
other's arms.
Eager toward the known delight, equally
we strove,
Each the other's mystery, terror, need,
and love.
To each other's open court with our
proofs we came,
Where could we find honour else or men
to test the claim?
From each other's throat we wrenched
valour's last reward,
That extorted word of praise gasped
'twixt lunge and guard.
In each other's cup we poured mingled
blood and tears,
Brutal joys, unmeasured hopes,
intolerable fears,
All that soiled or salted life for a thousand
years.
Proved beyond the need of proof, matched
in every clime,
O companion, we have lived greatly
through all time:
Yoked in knowledge and remorse now we
come to rest,
Laughing at old villainies that time has
turned to jest,
Pardoning old necessity no pardon can
efface—
That undying sin we shared in Rouen
market-place.
Now we watch the new years shape,
wondering if they hold
Fiercer lighting in their hearts than we
launched of old.
Now we hear new voices rise, question,
boast or gird,
As we raged (rememberest thou?) when
our crowds were stirred.
Now we count new keels afloat, and new