Hearing this inspired me to memorize the poem and recite it myself. Since then I have also memorized Edna St. Vincent Millay's The Suicide and Renascence, along with many other shorter ones. Thanks, Mr. Burton!
To those who complain that Richard Burton reads too fast...think/hear faster. He reads to the beat of a hound rushing through heaven, earth, and hell. He reads nearly as fast as frantic thought like lightning. Best that way.
+Chandra Garsson Thanks for this thought - you're right. I came to this after listening to Dylan Thomas read "Do not go gentle" & needed your comment to shift gear....
Burton's passionate tempo is just a symptom - the underlying problem is he doesn't truly *get* it. He reads it dramatically, in a breakneck charge, like a Shakespearian cavalry scene: his delivery mirrors the outward image, but doesn't get to the essence. It's a poem of spiritual resignation: life's drama is being discarded, not relished. Even when he voices God's response at the end, the voice is the voice of a striving, contending human - the voice of Richard Burton, not the architect of the Cosmos. Thompson's poem wants a monk or a sufi to deliver it properly - not a self-described atheist who spent his life drinking and shagging, God bless his Welsh heart.
michael gove Very well said Burton has not grasped it whatsoever You can tell when a person reads something that they understand it because they deliver it in a way that is easily understood. I just think you are absolutely right Thank you 🙏
UNBELIEVABLE - Burton at his very best, but I think you need to be 'of a certain age' to truly appreciate how bloody good he was and how sad that he can no longer enthrall younger generations in the flesh. Fast you say? no, absolutely not: he's reading it as I am convinced Thompson would have wanted it to be read. What a poem, what an actor ... so glad to have found this.
As an enthused 17 year old, I disagree, I begun my appreciation of his wonderfully rich voice and convincing delivery at age 12, so understand the need for his urgency in this reading. I can appreciate this opinion, however, as many of those of the same age struggle to think in the same way.
The denouement of the Episode of Morse entitled the Last Enemy, where John Thaw and Michael Aldridge’s characters alternate in reciting extracts from this magnificent work.Enjoyed hearing the entire poem ready by the peerless Richard Burton, thank you.
My heart leaps with joy at the comedy of the stage that Shakespeare described so well, that stage upon which we all must play out our parts. May the bards continue to pursue those wretched souls that hound the heavens so. (and cost Michael Dell so much in warranty claims)
I have only just discovered this poem in my 71st year. I had never heard of this poem nor Francis Thompson. Excellent poetry that Richard Burton makes come to vivid life. In the "desperate life" vein of William Burroughs: how one can only see clearly the true meaning of life after life sends you into utter despair. Also has a certain Joycean stream of consciousness feel. Gives me thoughts of Tolstoy, after his celebrated success, electing to live in poverty with Dorothy Day, the activist labeled the first U.S. female socialist. Learned of this poem through Irish video series "Jack Taylor", a private eye of a very unique, unconventional style, streaming on Acorn.
Thank you for posting this. I have always loved this poem but had trouble putting the prose together. Urgency? - I loved it and now understood much of the story and what a story it is. Many of us can relate to it as we go through our lives doing what we like when we like and feeling unfulfilled. This world is owned by a base enemy who just loves the way most of us are living our lives and we forget that God only wants one thing from us - love for him and love for all of his creation. Why else would he bother chasing us We all have or will hear his call but it scares us to bits so we run with the life that makes us comfortable. Each of us is just a speck in time, and in three or four generations we will be forgotten on this earth and all we own with it. But we will never be forgotten by our creator., hence the urgency for all to know and understand his plan for his greatest creation - that's us with all our faults. Sylvia Bow, New Zealand.
I read this poem regularly to remind me of my own flight from the God who loves me and whom I seek and yet reject for earthly trinkets. The spiritual path is difficult but must be traveled.
Too fast? Indeed...too fast. The intent is to show the urgency of God's pursuit through the fleeting moments of a person's life. Too fast? To reach the end too soon? Indeed, it is our complaint about life itself. If only we could slow life down to a manageable pace where we could examine each moment as it comes until we can fully understand it. But alas, life keeps coming at us, faster and faster, it seems, until the end comes, all too soon.
This is how Burton performed. Try watching the live stage version of his Hamlet. It is up to the reader to understand the material and then appreciate the performance. I don't have a lot of time for the "slow down I don't get it" brigade. TOUGH! It's a performance not a school lesson, the piece is fast and passionate, so make the effort to read it and understand it and then his urgency makes total sense. Oh, and thank you so much for posting.
First, did anyone consider that this is a poem about a CHASE when complaining of the speed? How on earth was he SUPPOSED to read lines like " Up vistaed hopes I sped;/And shot, precipitated, /Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears"? Or, "I said to Dawn: Be sudden-to Eve: Be soon;"? Or even: "To all swift things for swiftness did I sue; Clung to the whistling mane of every wind. But whether they swept, smoothly fleet, 40 The long savannahs of the blue; Or whether, Thunder-driven, They clanged his chariot ’thwart a heaven, Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn o’ their feet:- Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue."? Frankly, I do wish he had slowed down on the refrain of the poem, since it IS supposed to mimic the "unhurried chase and unperturbed pace".... Yes, the "instancy" and "deliberate speed" implies that the fast pace was kept up with, but there comes with the speed he reads at a sense of being rushed, and the entire idea of those first two lines in the refrain was that there *was no* franticness in the persuit of heavens hounds, just easy, deliberate speed...
To those who enjoy a slower rendering-click on the gear icon (settings) then click speed- then reduce one notch from "normal" down to "0.75" . You will have to reset the speed when leaving for another site. Burton's amazing voice carries the listener aloft.
Wonderful reading of a wonderful poem. For those looking for a musical version, albeit a much abbreviated version, check out an older song by Michael Card titled Hound of Heaven. It has a great driving rhythm, like a pursuit, just as Burton reads here. th-cam.com/video/e2q5fz27oUM/w-d-xo.html On a side note, if you read St. Augustin's autobiogrpahy "Confessions," you will find what may have been partial inspiration for this great poem. (Book V, Section 2)
He will always pursue His Elect, Chosen, Called and Predestined Ones. We are prone to wander as the song says; but the hound of heaven will hunt us down.
I FLED Him, down the nights and down the days; I fled Him, down the arches of the years; I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears I hid from Him, and under running laughter. 5 Up vistaed hopes I sped; And shot, precipitated, Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears, From those strong Feet that followed, followed after. But with unhurrying chase, 10 And unperturbèd pace, Deliberate speed, majestic instancy, They beat-and a Voice beat More instant than the Feet- ‘All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.’ 15 I pleaded, outlaw-wise, By many a hearted casement, curtained red, Trellised with intertwining charities; (For, though I knew His love Who followèd, Yet was I sore adread 20 Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside). But, if one little casement parted wide, The gust of His approach would clash it to. Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist to pursue. Across the margent of the world I fled, 25 And troubled the gold gateways of the stars, Smiting for shelter on their clangèd bars; Fretted to dulcet jars And silvern chatter the pale ports o’ the moon. I said to Dawn: Be sudden-to Eve: Be soon; 30 With thy young skiey blossoms heap me over From this tremendous Lover- Float thy vague veil about me, lest He see! I tempted all His servitors, but to find My own betrayal in their constancy, 35 In faith to Him their fickleness to me, Their traitorous trueness, and their loyal deceit. To all swift things for swiftness did I sue; Clung to the whistling mane of every wind. But whether they swept, smoothly fleet, 40 The long savannahs of the blue; Or whether, Thunder-driven, They clanged his chariot ’thwart a heaven, Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn o’ their feet:- Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue. 45 Still with unhurrying chase, And unperturbèd pace, Deliberate speed, majestic instancy, Came on the following Feet, And a Voice above their beat- 50 ‘Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me.’ I sought no more that after which I strayed In face of man or maid; But still within the little children’s eyes Seems something, something that replies, 55 They at least are for me, surely for me! I turned me to them very wistfully; But just as their young eyes grew sudden fair With dawning answers there, Their angel plucked them from me by the hair. 60 ‘Come then, ye other children, Nature’s-share With me’ (said I) ‘your delicate fellowship; Let me greet you lip to lip, Let me twine with you caresses, Wantoning 65 With our Lady-Mother’s vagrant tresses, Banqueting With her in her wind-walled palace, Underneath her azured daïs, Quaffing, as your taintless way is, 70 From a chalice Lucent-weeping out of the dayspring.’ So it was done: I in their delicate fellowship was one- Drew the bolt of Nature’s secrecies. 75 I knew all the swift importings On the wilful face of skies; I knew how the clouds arise Spumèd of the wild sea-snortings; All that’s born or dies 80 Rose and drooped with; made them shapers Of mine own moods, or wailful or divine; With them joyed and was bereaven. I was heavy with the even, When she lit her glimmering tapers 85 Round the day’s dead sanctities. I laughed in the morning’s eyes. I triumphed and I saddened with all weather, Heaven and I wept together, And its sweet tears were salt with mortal mine; 90 Against the red throb of its sunset-heart I laid my own to beat, And share commingling heat; But not by that, by that, was eased my human smart. In vain my tears were wet on Heaven’s grey cheek. 95 For ah! we know not what each other says, These things and I; in sound I speak- Their sound is but their stir, they speak by silences. Nature, poor stepdame, cannot slake my drouth; Let her, if she would owe me, 100 Drop yon blue bosom-veil of sky, and show me The breasts o’ her tenderness: Never did any milk of hers once bless My thirsting mouth. Nigh and nigh draws the chase, 105 With unperturbèd pace, Deliberate speed, majestic instancy; And past those noisèd Feet A voice comes yet more fleet- ‘Lo! naught contents thee, who content’st not Me!’ 110 Naked I wait Thy love’s uplifted stroke! My harness piece by piece Thou hast hewn from me, And smitten me to my knee; I am defenceless utterly. I slept, methinks, and woke, 115 And, slowly gazing, find me stripped in sleep. In the rash lustihead of my young powers, I shook the pillaring hours And pulled my life upon me; grimed with smears, I stand amid the dust o’ the mounded years- 120 My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap. My days have crackled and gone up in smoke, Have puffed and burst as sun-starts on a stream. Yea, faileth now even dream The dreamer, and the lute the lutanist; 125 Even the linked fantasies, in whose blossomy twist I swung the earth a trinket at my wrist, Are yielding; cords of all too weak account For earth with heavy griefs so overplussed. Ah! is Thy love indeed 130 A weed, albeit an amaranthine weed, Suffering no flowers except its own to mount? Ah! must- Designer infinite!- Ah! must Thou char the wood ere Thou canst limn with it? 135 My freshness spent its wavering shower i’ the dust; And now my heart is as a broken fount, Wherein tear-drippings stagnate, spilt down ever From the dank thoughts that shiver Upon the sighful branches of my mind. 140 Such is; what is to be? The pulp so bitter, how shall taste the rind? I dimly guess what Time in mists confounds; Yet ever and anon a trumpet sounds From the hid battlements of Eternity; 145 Those shaken mists a space unsettle, then Round the half-glimpsèd turrets slowly wash again. But not ere him who summoneth I first have seen, enwound With glooming robes purpureal, cypress-crowned; 150 His name I know, and what his trumpet saith. Whether man’s heart or life it be which yields Thee harvest, must Thy harvest-fields Be dunged with rotten death? Now of that long pursuit 155 Comes on at hand the bruit; That Voice is round me like a bursting sea: ‘And is thy earth so marred, Shattered in shard on shard? Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me! 160 Strange, piteous, futile thing! Wherefore should any set thee love apart? Seeing none but I makes much of naught’ (He said), ‘And human love needs human meriting: How hast thou merited- 165 Of all man’s clotted clay the dingiest clot? Alack, thou knowest not How little worthy of any love thou art! Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee, Save Me, save only Me? 170 All which I took from thee I did but take, Not for thy harms, But just that thou might’st seek it in My arms. All which thy child’s mistake Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home: 175 Rise, clasp My hand, and come!’ Halts by me that footfall: Is my gloom, after all, Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly? ‘Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest, 180 I am He Whom thou seekest!
In my mind it was always much slower, because the pursuer is constant, deliberate: unhurrying haste and all that. Still what a beautiful voice, very ambitious!
If I had not studied this poem in depth previously, I would likewise be complaining about the speed. Someone who's never read this might find it hard to fall Thompsons archaic language and constant metaphors.
@LookOnBeauty Do you mean Ernest Dowson's poem "Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae"? First line: "Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine..." If that's the one I can upload it for you.
Wrapped in GOD’s LOVING GRACE… READ this poem to yourself and GOD QUICKENS BOTH HEART AND PACE, IN HIS SACRED BREATH; DRENCHING YOU IN THE RICHNESS OF HIS T R U E VOICE! I SWEAR THESE TRUTHS IN THE NAME; FACE AND BREATHE, OF JESUS, OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR!!!
I find it a bit fast myself. Although, Burton's classic voice is perfect for this piece. I'd think I'd like to hear Macdonald Carey do this. I can't forget his voice in 'these are the days of our lives' from when I was a much younger woman.
I just watched The Hound of Heaven documentary (recorded on our DVR) that aired on EWTN in Oct. It's excellent! I love Burton, but I agree with a couple of other commenters that he's reading it way too fast. I think it is much better read slower as some stanzas are in the documentary, but sadly not heard on the trailer -- vimeo.com/76242863
It was always about this pace in my mind, though slower in places, because though the pursuer is "unhurrying," the speaker is running. At a point he feels relief, and at that point it's a but slower, and then slower still when he stops running. It pretty much like a horror film where no matter how fast the victim runs, Jason is always right there regardless of the fact that he moves like a damn tortoise.
this poem is so great it is included in the Catholic Churches book of daily prayer...you cannot escape Him...you may reject Him but you cannot escape Him. We can be with Him or without Him, we alone can choose!
"Dog theology" - two famous phrases: "with all deliberate speed" (Supreme Court decision about segregation, BROWN), and "This Tremedous Lover" (used as title of spiritual classic by Irish Trappist monk Dom Eugene Bohylan)
It has crossed my mind but I am busy converting a lot of other material from vynil to mp3. This takes time. Besides, I am also doing some poetry reading myself of work by Dutch and Flemish poets (in Dutch). But I will keep your suggestion in mind. Thank you for your reaction.
I would perhaps like to hear Patrick Stewart and David Warner separately perform a reading of this poem. Tell me, in what arena do you think Richard Burton's voice is best noted?
@LookOnBeauty Hello, I tried to send you a message through your channel but your friend lock is enabled.. Can you temporarily give me acces? My message contains info that I do not want to reveal here. Pse advise. Thanks.
It was enjoyable treat watching this attempt at corruption combined with the worst elements of government possible take place as it happened on this machine.
Although Richard Burton is a great voice, he reads "The Hound of Heaven" much too fast. Thompson's poem needs to be tasted ever so slowly. The poem is not to be read thru in great speed but slowly savored.
avalon4363 There is indeed much to savour in this poem and a single hearing does not do it justice. It needs to be read and understood. The language and careful craftsmanship of every polished word and phrase repay repeated readings. Once the structure, the skeleton, is grasped, and the purpose comprehended, then is the time to listen to a masterly reading of the work. Only then do the sinews, muscles and nerves become apparent. And only then is the emotion, which drove the author to its creation sparked into life in another.
Wonderful ! The whole poem is intrinsically woven in our half lit spiritual education where God is a man. How would the poem come when considering our Mother of God ? This you find when you enter the Indian spirituality. Mahashakti is the all gracious Divine in its aspect of a mother and we in the dark west have not been educated to pray to Her. Then the fleeing activity would not arise.
Nexus i was just about to say ; all the msgs on this thread are gaeat then i read yours and reality hit me again cheers pal and good name as well very old world
Hearing this inspired me to memorize the poem and recite it myself. Since then I have also memorized Edna St. Vincent Millay's The Suicide and Renascence, along with many other shorter ones. Thanks, Mr. Burton!
That is impressive
The great Catholic vagrant poet. Thanks for posting this extraordinary reading by Sir Richard.
I've only just discovered this poem, in my 45th year. Where has this been all my life? Thanks very much for posting it
Don't feel bad. I'm in my 66th year and just read it. I had thought CS Lewis wrote this but no. Marvelous. Burton gives the sense.
then its probably right on time.
It has been pursuing you all these years
To those who complain that Richard Burton reads too fast...think/hear faster. He reads to the beat of a hound rushing through heaven, earth, and hell. He reads nearly as fast as frantic thought like lightning. Best that way.
+Chandra Garsson Thanks for this thought - you're right. I came to this after listening to Dylan Thomas read "Do not go gentle" & needed your comment to shift gear....
He is fleeing from God but cannot.
for those who find it too fast just go to the settings change the speed to 0.75 to slow it down.
Burton's passionate tempo is just a symptom - the underlying problem is he doesn't truly *get* it. He reads it dramatically, in a breakneck charge, like a Shakespearian cavalry scene: his delivery mirrors the outward image, but doesn't get to the essence.
It's a poem of spiritual resignation: life's drama is being discarded, not relished. Even when he voices God's response at the end, the voice is the voice of a striving, contending human - the voice of Richard Burton, not the architect of the Cosmos. Thompson's poem wants a monk or a sufi to deliver it properly - not a self-described atheist who spent his life drinking and shagging, God bless his Welsh heart.
michael gove
Very well said
Burton has not grasped it whatsoever
You can tell when a person reads something that they understand it because they deliver it in a way that is easily understood.
I just think you are absolutely right
Thank you 🙏
UNBELIEVABLE - Burton at his very best, but I think you need to be 'of a certain age' to truly appreciate how bloody good he was and how sad that he can no longer enthrall younger generations in the flesh. Fast you say? no, absolutely not: he's reading it as I am convinced Thompson would have wanted it to be read. What a poem, what an actor ... so glad to have found this.
As an enthused 17 year old, I disagree, I begun my appreciation of his wonderfully rich voice and convincing delivery at age 12, so understand the need for his urgency in this reading. I can appreciate this opinion, however, as many of those of the same age struggle to think in the same way.
He remains a titan of language.
Remarkable, Richard Burton's telling of the Hound of Heaven is wonderful. He has one of the best voices.
Extraordinary! What a reading!
This moves me to tears... And drives me to Him.
The denouement of the Episode of Morse entitled the Last Enemy, where John Thaw and Michael Aldridge’s characters alternate in reciting extracts from this magnificent work.Enjoyed hearing the entire poem ready by the peerless Richard Burton, thank you.
My heart leaps with joy at the comedy of the stage that Shakespeare described so well, that stage upon which we all must play out our parts. May the bards continue to pursue those wretched souls that hound the heavens so. (and cost Michael Dell so much in warranty claims)
I have only just discovered this poem in my 71st year. I had never heard of this poem nor Francis Thompson. Excellent poetry that Richard Burton makes come to vivid life. In the "desperate life" vein of William Burroughs: how one can only see clearly the true meaning of life after life sends you into utter despair. Also has a certain Joycean stream of consciousness feel. Gives me thoughts of Tolstoy, after his celebrated success, electing to live in poverty with Dorothy Day, the activist labeled the first U.S. female socialist. Learned of this poem through Irish video series "Jack Taylor", a private eye of a very unique, unconventional style, streaming on Acorn.
Richard Burton was only in his late twenties when this was recorded and his voice became much deeper and richer as he grew older.
Yep hined by 60 cigarettes and very strong liquor every day.
...beautiful poem read by the master.....thanks
THX Richard. I pray the Hound finally got to you
Well he did catch him in 1984, it's where he placed him is what matters. Heaven, I think.
Thank you for posting this. I have always loved this poem but had trouble putting the prose together. Urgency? - I loved it and now understood much of the story and what a story it is. Many of us can relate to it as we go through our lives doing what we like when we like and feeling unfulfilled. This world is owned by a base enemy who just loves the way most of us are living our lives and we forget that God only wants one thing from us - love for him and love for all of his creation. Why else would he bother chasing us We all have or will hear his call but it scares us to bits so we run with the life that makes us comfortable. Each of us is just a speck in time, and in three or four generations we will be forgotten on this earth and all we own with it. But we will never be forgotten by our creator., hence the urgency for all to know and understand his plan for his greatest creation - that's us with all our faults. Sylvia Bow, New Zealand.
I read this poem regularly to remind me of my own flight from the God who loves me and whom I seek and yet reject for earthly trinkets. The spiritual path is difficult but must be traveled.
Burton was one of a kind. I read that his journals will be published soon. Those should be a great read---the man valued literature.
For this, Richard, all thy sins are forgiven thee.
Too fast? Indeed...too fast. The intent is to show the urgency of God's pursuit through the fleeting moments of a person's life. Too fast? To reach the end too soon? Indeed, it is our complaint about life itself. If only we could slow life down to a manageable pace where we could examine each moment as it comes until we can fully understand it. But alas, life keeps coming at us, faster and faster, it seems, until the end comes, all too soon.
This is how Burton performed. Try watching the live stage version of his Hamlet. It is up to the reader to understand the material and then appreciate the performance. I don't have a lot of time for the "slow down I don't get it" brigade. TOUGH! It's a performance not a school lesson, the piece is fast and passionate, so make the effort to read it and understand it and then his urgency makes total sense.
Oh, and thank you so much for posting.
Absolutely brilliant!
First, did anyone consider that this is a poem about a CHASE when complaining of the speed? How on earth was he SUPPOSED to read lines like " Up vistaed hopes I sped;/And shot, precipitated, /Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears"? Or, "I said to Dawn: Be sudden-to Eve: Be soon;"? Or even:
"To all swift things for swiftness did I sue;
Clung to the whistling mane of every wind.
But whether they swept, smoothly fleet, 40
The long savannahs of the blue;
Or whether, Thunder-driven,
They clanged his chariot ’thwart a heaven,
Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn o’ their feet:-
Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue."?
Frankly, I do wish he had slowed down on the refrain of the poem, since it IS supposed to mimic the "unhurried chase and unperturbed pace".... Yes, the "instancy" and "deliberate speed" implies that the fast pace was kept up with, but there comes with the speed he reads at a sense of being rushed, and the entire idea of those first two lines in the refrain was that there *was no* franticness in the persuit of heavens hounds, just easy, deliberate speed...
To those who enjoy a slower rendering-click on the gear icon (settings) then click speed- then reduce one notch from "normal" down to "0.75" . You will have to reset the speed when leaving for another site. Burton's amazing voice carries the listener aloft.
Thanks for that speed tip ... makes a great improvement !!!
This is one of my Favorite things ever!!!!!
Absolutely fantastic!!!
Chandra, you are correct. The soul is desperate to evade God…and He will not stop pursuing us.
Darnelle J7 AWESOME LOVE 'THE HOUND OF Heaven' LO V E soul stirring
Amazing
Wonderful reading of a wonderful poem. For those looking for a musical version, albeit a much abbreviated version, check out an older song by Michael Card titled Hound of Heaven. It has a great driving rhythm, like a pursuit, just as Burton reads here. th-cam.com/video/e2q5fz27oUM/w-d-xo.html
On a side note, if you read St. Augustin's autobiogrpahy "Confessions," you will find what may have been partial inspiration for this great poem. (Book V, Section 2)
Brilliant
When he needed to slow down, he did.
One of the best actors ever
I agree wholeheartedly.
Thank you
How amazing. Brilliant. 📢☯️🦋🆒🙏🏾
Wonderful Reading THANKS FR EDDIE LALOR THANKS
He will always pursue His Elect, Chosen, Called and Predestined Ones. We are prone to wander as the song says; but the hound of heaven will hunt us down.
timeless indeed
Family Theater featured carey reciting this. a mighty recital, introduced by rosalind russel and, happily, i have it on my DVR.
Heaven and I...speak by silences...and I'm defenseless utterly...
Immensely remarkable
I FLED Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter. 5
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase, 10
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat-and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet-
‘All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.’ 15
I pleaded, outlaw-wise,
By many a hearted casement, curtained red,
Trellised with intertwining charities;
(For, though I knew His love Who followèd,
Yet was I sore adread 20
Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside).
But, if one little casement parted wide,
The gust of His approach would clash it to.
Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist to pursue.
Across the margent of the world I fled, 25
And troubled the gold gateways of the stars,
Smiting for shelter on their clangèd bars;
Fretted to dulcet jars
And silvern chatter the pale ports o’ the moon.
I said to Dawn: Be sudden-to Eve: Be soon; 30
With thy young skiey blossoms heap me over
From this tremendous Lover-
Float thy vague veil about me, lest He see!
I tempted all His servitors, but to find
My own betrayal in their constancy, 35
In faith to Him their fickleness to me,
Their traitorous trueness, and their loyal deceit.
To all swift things for swiftness did I sue;
Clung to the whistling mane of every wind.
But whether they swept, smoothly fleet, 40
The long savannahs of the blue;
Or whether, Thunder-driven,
They clanged his chariot ’thwart a heaven,
Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn o’ their feet:-
Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue. 45
Still with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
Came on the following Feet,
And a Voice above their beat- 50
‘Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me.’
I sought no more that after which I strayed
In face of man or maid;
But still within the little children’s eyes
Seems something, something that replies, 55
They at least are for me, surely for me!
I turned me to them very wistfully;
But just as their young eyes grew sudden fair
With dawning answers there,
Their angel plucked them from me by the hair. 60
‘Come then, ye other children, Nature’s-share
With me’ (said I) ‘your delicate fellowship;
Let me greet you lip to lip,
Let me twine with you caresses,
Wantoning 65
With our Lady-Mother’s vagrant tresses,
Banqueting
With her in her wind-walled palace,
Underneath her azured daïs,
Quaffing, as your taintless way is, 70
From a chalice
Lucent-weeping out of the dayspring.’
So it was done:
I in their delicate fellowship was one-
Drew the bolt of Nature’s secrecies. 75
I knew all the swift importings
On the wilful face of skies;
I knew how the clouds arise
Spumèd of the wild sea-snortings;
All that’s born or dies 80
Rose and drooped with; made them shapers
Of mine own moods, or wailful or divine;
With them joyed and was bereaven.
I was heavy with the even,
When she lit her glimmering tapers 85
Round the day’s dead sanctities.
I laughed in the morning’s eyes.
I triumphed and I saddened with all weather,
Heaven and I wept together,
And its sweet tears were salt with mortal mine; 90
Against the red throb of its sunset-heart
I laid my own to beat,
And share commingling heat;
But not by that, by that, was eased my human smart.
In vain my tears were wet on Heaven’s grey cheek. 95
For ah! we know not what each other says,
These things and I; in sound I speak-
Their sound is but their stir, they speak by silences.
Nature, poor stepdame, cannot slake my drouth;
Let her, if she would owe me, 100
Drop yon blue bosom-veil of sky, and show me
The breasts o’ her tenderness:
Never did any milk of hers once bless
My thirsting mouth.
Nigh and nigh draws the chase, 105
With unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy;
And past those noisèd Feet
A voice comes yet more fleet-
‘Lo! naught contents thee, who content’st not Me!’ 110
Naked I wait Thy love’s uplifted stroke!
My harness piece by piece Thou hast hewn from me,
And smitten me to my knee;
I am defenceless utterly.
I slept, methinks, and woke, 115
And, slowly gazing, find me stripped in sleep.
In the rash lustihead of my young powers,
I shook the pillaring hours
And pulled my life upon me; grimed with smears,
I stand amid the dust o’ the mounded years- 120
My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap.
My days have crackled and gone up in smoke,
Have puffed and burst as sun-starts on a stream.
Yea, faileth now even dream
The dreamer, and the lute the lutanist; 125
Even the linked fantasies, in whose blossomy twist
I swung the earth a trinket at my wrist,
Are yielding; cords of all too weak account
For earth with heavy griefs so overplussed.
Ah! is Thy love indeed 130
A weed, albeit an amaranthine weed,
Suffering no flowers except its own to mount?
Ah! must-
Designer infinite!-
Ah! must Thou char the wood ere Thou canst limn with it? 135
My freshness spent its wavering shower i’ the dust;
And now my heart is as a broken fount,
Wherein tear-drippings stagnate, spilt down ever
From the dank thoughts that shiver
Upon the sighful branches of my mind. 140
Such is; what is to be?
The pulp so bitter, how shall taste the rind?
I dimly guess what Time in mists confounds;
Yet ever and anon a trumpet sounds
From the hid battlements of Eternity; 145
Those shaken mists a space unsettle, then
Round the half-glimpsèd turrets slowly wash again.
But not ere him who summoneth
I first have seen, enwound
With glooming robes purpureal, cypress-crowned; 150
His name I know, and what his trumpet saith.
Whether man’s heart or life it be which yields
Thee harvest, must Thy harvest-fields
Be dunged with rotten death?
Now of that long pursuit 155
Comes on at hand the bruit;
That Voice is round me like a bursting sea:
‘And is thy earth so marred,
Shattered in shard on shard?
Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me! 160
Strange, piteous, futile thing!
Wherefore should any set thee love apart?
Seeing none but I makes much of naught’ (He said),
‘And human love needs human meriting:
How hast thou merited- 165
Of all man’s clotted clay the dingiest clot?
Alack, thou knowest not
How little worthy of any love thou art!
Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,
Save Me, save only Me? 170
All which I took from thee I did but take,
Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might’st seek it in My arms.
All which thy child’s mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home: 175
Rise, clasp My hand, and come!’
Halts by me that footfall:
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
‘Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest, 180
I am He Whom thou seekest!
Last line: Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me.'
The music of Heaven.
In my mind it was always much slower, because the pursuer is constant, deliberate: unhurrying haste and all that. Still what a beautiful voice, very ambitious!
Why is it that I'm coming back to this and my most significant takeaway is that the Hounds of Heaven travel SLOWER THAN MACH 1
One of my favorite poems...one which I can certainly identify.
Read in just the right pace
“smitten me to my knee”
Francis Thomson Addict
If I had not studied this poem in depth previously, I would likewise be complaining about the speed. Someone who's never read this might find it hard to fall Thompsons archaic language and constant metaphors.
?
@LookOnBeauty
Do you mean Ernest Dowson's poem "Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae"? First line: "Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine..."
If that's the one I can upload it for you.
Wrapped in GOD’s LOVING GRACE… READ this poem to yourself and GOD QUICKENS BOTH HEART AND PACE, IN HIS SACRED BREATH; DRENCHING YOU IN THE RICHNESS OF HIS T R U E VOICE!
I SWEAR THESE TRUTHS IN THE NAME; FACE AND BREATHE, OF JESUS, OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR!!!
Nice.
Can anyone source the recital of the Horse poem or piece from equus please ? thanks in any case
my name is Richard Poet too!!!!:O
I find it a bit fast myself. Although, Burton's classic voice is perfect for this piece. I'd think I'd like to hear Macdonald Carey do this. I can't forget his voice in 'these are the days of our lives' from when I was a much younger woman.
I just watched The Hound of Heaven documentary (recorded on our DVR) that aired on EWTN in Oct. It's excellent! I love Burton, but I agree with a couple of other commenters that he's reading it way too fast. I think it is much better read slower as some stanzas are in the documentary, but sadly not heard on the trailer -- vimeo.com/76242863
Here's a bit more: vimeo.com/108902530
Susie Melkus emblemmediallc.com/products/the-hound-of-heaven-the-story-of-francis-thompson
Thanks xxx
th-cam.com/video/oN0iq1yzrTk/w-d-xo.html
❤️
It was always about this pace in my mind, though slower in places, because though the pursuer is "unhurrying," the speaker is running. At a point he feels relief, and at that point it's a but slower, and then slower still when he stops running. It pretty much like a horror film where no matter how fast the victim runs, Jason is always right there regardless of the fact that he moves like a damn tortoise.
Who’s JASON???
this poem is so great it is included in the Catholic Churches book of daily prayer...you cannot escape Him...you may reject Him but you cannot escape Him.
We can be with Him or without Him, we alone can choose!
My Grandfather was in the RAF with Richard. He couldn't stand him. Said he was too cocky. I thought it was funny.
Adam Hill lol. He had a lot to be cocky about.
Sounds much better at 75% speed
@voidforpurpose Yes a bit catching...
"Dog theology" - two famous phrases: "with all deliberate speed" (Supreme Court decision about segregation, BROWN), and "This Tremedous Lover" (used as title of spiritual classic by Irish Trappist monk Dom Eugene Bohylan)
It has crossed my mind but I am busy converting a lot of other material from vynil to mp3. This takes time. Besides, I am also doing some poetry reading myself of work by Dutch and Flemish poets (in Dutch). But I will keep your suggestion in mind. Thank you for your reaction.
Check my channel, you will find dozens of uploads with readings of poetry from Dutch and Flemish poets.
I would perhaps like to hear Patrick Stewart and David Warner separately perform a reading of this poem. Tell me, in what arena do you think Richard Burton's voice is best noted?
Flander's Field is his best reading of poetry.
wist [knew]
I favor "the Wreck of the Deutschland" over this fine poem.
@LookOnBeauty
Hello,
I tried to send you a message through your channel but your friend lock is enabled.. Can you temporarily give me acces? My message contains info that I do not want to reveal here. Pse advise. Thanks.
:’)
too fast. i have a video of macdonald carey doing this. if you love this poem, the latter is a must.
I am 108
Be 27
HE READ IT TO FAST JUST AS JOHN BARRYMORE WOULD DO , TURN THE SCREW DEAR MADAME, OPEN THE PUBS DOOR & LET ME IN.
Me to :)
It was enjoyable treat watching this attempt at corruption combined with the worst elements of government possible take place as it happened on this machine.
Although Richard Burton is a great voice, he reads "The Hound of Heaven" much too fast. Thompson's poem needs to be tasted ever so slowly. The poem is not to be read thru in great speed but slowly savored.
avalon4363 There is indeed much to savour in this poem and a single hearing does not do it justice.
It needs to be read and understood. The language and careful craftsmanship of every polished word and phrase repay repeated readings.
Once the structure, the skeleton, is grasped, and the purpose comprehended, then is the time to listen to a masterly reading of the work.
Only then do the sinews, muscles and nerves become apparent. And only then is the emotion, which drove the author to its creation sparked into life in another.
@@MacMcCaskill see R4. 5
too damn quick, especially at the end
cocaine is a hell of a drug apparently
BANE
Wonderful ! The whole poem is intrinsically woven in our half lit spiritual education where God is a man. How would the poem come when considering our Mother of God ? This you find when you enter the Indian spirituality. Mahashakti is the all gracious Divine in its aspect of a mother and we in the dark west have not been educated to pray to Her. Then the fleeing activity would not arise.
Nonsense. Mary is the Mother of God. She bore him, who died for you, the living God.
A bit too chased a reading.
No. It should be read thoughtfully.
I still can't find a proper reading of this. This is too fast.
too fast
This is too fast for Richard Burton. He would have known that.
He always read his lines in a rushing and monotonous way.
Nexus
i was just about to say ; all the msgs on this thread are gaeat
then i read yours and reality hit me again
cheers pal
and good name as well
very old world
This is horrible. Sounds like he is trying to see how fast he can read it.
Not enough dramatic variation is this. It is boring. The voice alone does not do. Ther is a sense that Burton has not absorbed this poem fully.
Muy mal... Demasiado rápido... VERY BAD: TOO MUCH FAST...
Way too fast!
Performed far tooooooo quickly.
I got recommended this poem but to me it sounds like nothing but a bunch of unnecessary babel
Horrible read by Burton. He reads it as if it does not apply to him. Just another literary piece to him.