Our Conquering Swords Poem by Christopher Marlowe
Our Conquering Swords
Our conquering swords shall marshall us the way
We use to march upon the slaughter'd foe,
Trampling their bowels with our horses' hoofs,
Brave horses bred on the white Tartarian hills.
My camp is like to Julius Caesar's host,
That never fought but had the victory;
Nor in Pharsalia was there such hot war
As these, my followers, willingly would have.
Legions of spirits, fleeting in the air,
Direct our bullets and our weapons' points,
And make your strokes to wound the senseless light;
And when she sees our bloody colours spread,
Then Victory begins to take her flight,
Resting herself upon my milk-white tent--
But come, my lords, to weapons let us fall;
The field is ours, the Turk, his wife, and all.
Why, why, why choose a poem like this in this era of constant warfare, insurrections, drones killing innocents, thousands and thousands of displace refugees, and the threat of nuclear warfare? Why? Then, as if the whole poem weren't objectionable enough ('trampling their bowels with our horses' hoofs') , the last line is incredibly racist, sexist, and elitist! Of all the poems available in the English language, why would anyone resort to this one? Even Marlowe did better than this.
Lovely piece of poetry, well articulated and nicely penned with conviction.
A sixteenth century poem and the theme relevance of the period but now in place of kings, swords, and entire warfare is changed. Still the poem is interesting.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 1:45:22 PM # 1.0.0.1119
.............superb poem, he literally takes the reader back in time....so amazing ★