The Rider on a White Horse - (Version 2)

We leave our village in the vale below.
And pause, now close to the copse on the hill
From branches above trickles of snow;
The frost is harsh, the air is still,
“The day is dark and bitter cold.”
My horse now shies at the voice we hear
An old man sits on a rock by the fold;
Transfixed, I am, by this ancient seer.

“Into the mist I sit and stare,”
He says; “and feel the bitter chill.
“My thoughts to you I now lay bare.
From years ago, I remember still
The sights I now reveal to you;
Events amazing, I do recall,
Sights portentous for life anew;
Sights to amaze the eyes of all.”

“I watched and prayed and then I saw
a horse as white as snow.
I saw his rider and knelt in awe -
His robes of linen dipped in blood - though
Gripped with fear I watched and felt
His blazing eyes, his many crowns
And massive dread to me was dealt -
A heavenly army with almighty sounds.”

“In His mouth a sword so keen,
for nations a fury of wrath to fuel
in anger and rage for sins obscene.
With a sceptre of iron for him to rule.
And on his side was written his name:
‘King of Kings and Lord of Lords’.
Our Lord indeed, he’s just the same ,
With angels he came and heavenly hoards.”

“I’m old and time has left me weak;
His holy word is prophetic indeed.
Of what’s to come to you I speak -
I pray for His coming, for Him we need.”
An icy wind now drives the snow:
My horse is restless, he shakes his mane,
The snow is blowing and we’ve far to go,
From standing still we must refrain.

It begins to snow and frost bites chill,
The light is fading; my fingers are numbed;
A long road to go, no time to kill
And yet to him I had succumbed.
The old man I left, pondering anew
What was it he meant, this prophet of old?
Who is this king?  What was it he knew?
The road is long and my horse is cold……


BPF
25 August 2014


This is a much-revised and added to version of an earlier poem of mine.  It is the first of a pair of related poems - the second being 'The New Jerusalem'.

The incident takes place - who knows when? - perhaps early eighteenth century?  The rider meets a seer on his way to - wherever? - and what happens in the second poem on the rider's return? - well I will leave that to the reader to find out!