The Poetical Works of Ebenezer Elliott Edited by his Son Edwin Elliott ... A New and Revised Edition: Two Volumes |
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A GLIMPSE OF THE FUTURE. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Ebenezer Elliott |  |
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A GLIMPSE OF THE FUTURE.
An old man, to the field of graves
Borne, in his parish-shroud, methought,
Found, in the land of landless slaves,
The bed of rest, which long he sought.
Borne, in his parish-shroud, methought,
Found, in the land of landless slaves,
The bed of rest, which long he sought.
But, after many years had flown,
That old man rose out of his grave,
And wonder'd at his native town,
And found no honest man a slave.
That old man rose out of his grave,
And wonder'd at his native town,
And found no honest man a slave.
Where once that town of trouble stood,
And he the tyrant's frown had felt,
Men in sweet homes, by stream and wood,
Amid their own green acres dwelt.
And he the tyrant's frown had felt,
Men in sweet homes, by stream and wood,
Amid their own green acres dwelt.
Nor hovel now, nor temple was,
Where hovels once and temples stood;
All, all had perish'd! for, alas!
Redemption had been steep'd in blood!
Where hovels once and temples stood;
All, all had perish'd! for, alas!
Redemption had been steep'd in blood!
Remote, an engined city groan'd
Where bad men toil'd in penal gloom;
The Agnews there the Pelhams moan'd,
The Melvilles plied the penal loom.
Where bad men toil'd in penal gloom;
The Agnews there the Pelhams moan'd,
The Melvilles plied the penal loom.
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Tyrants, not victims, justly bound
To labour's chain, alone were slaves:
And no good man was landless found
In this sad land, where men have graves.
To labour's chain, alone were slaves:
And no good man was landless found
In this sad land, where men have graves.
But things which penal toil had wrought,
Converting crime itself to good,
The blessings of all climates brought
To those sweet homes, by stream and wood.
Converting crime itself to good,
The blessings of all climates brought
To those sweet homes, by stream and wood.
Instinct with life, almost they seem'd,
And came and went, when call'd or sent
By tranquil thought, that star-like beam'd
On each untiring instrument.
And came and went, when call'd or sent
By tranquil thought, that star-like beam'd
On each untiring instrument.
Not only by his toiling hands,
But chiefly by his god-like mind,
Man, sowing bliss, in distant lands,
Made earth a garden for mankind.
But chiefly by his god-like mind,
Man, sowing bliss, in distant lands,
Made earth a garden for mankind.
| The Poetical Works of Ebenezer Elliott | |