Secular heirs of spirit’s little hour,
We govern in the aftermath of frenzy:
Ordered watches where the Crusade ends.
Between the Dead Sea and the live, our narrow,
Alien land. We signal, and the torch
Is for the shore levant, as its response
Is for the desert fastness the decline:
Two fires our width, our panic, our defense.
Who guard the shrines, add terraces for grapes,
Exploit the pilgrim, wed the infidel …
They (we) back up against the evening star.
Near Hesper, newest bulwark out of Europe,
Flash from shore to sand the flickered strength.
As, when the flood recedes, the salt is structure,
We, fore retrospects of brimstone fall,
By margin castles pillar-up the dawn,
Who glisten by the fact of shrinkage. Heap,
Rear Guard, the brazier high; and if from star
Nor West no answer comes, assess your creed.
The zeal that brought you here must buy you off.
In the Kingdom of Jerusalem
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