Look upon the children scattering
roses, and hearken to their singing if it be sweet:
for their sake is my mouth filled with dust, and the
roses are red from the well-springs of my heart.
See where the people kneel to drink the blood that
drips from thy garment-hem: for their sake was
it shed, to quench their ravening thirst. For it is
written: 'Greater love hath no man than this, if
a man lay down his life for his friends.'"
"Oh, Arthur, Arthur; there is greater love than
this! If a man lay down the life of his best beloved,
is not that greater?"
And It answered again:
"Who is thy best beloved? In sooth, not I."
And when he would have spoken the words
froze on his tongue, for the singing of the choristers
passed over them, as the north wind over icy
pools, and hushed them into silence:
"Dedit fragilibus corporis ferculum,
Dedit et tristibus sanguinis poculum,
Dicens: Accipite, quod trado vasculum
Omnes ex eo bibite."
Drink of it, Christians; drink of it, all of you!
Is it not yours? For you the red stream stains
the grass; for you the living flesh is seared and
torn.
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