 | Relicta |  |
22
SIC ITUR AD INFEROS
England in 1909
Quiet, and Rest, and Peace—Ah, where shall we go to attain them?
Not to this world of ours, curst with a spirit of change;
Reckless and rabid and rude, still struggling and hurrying onward;
Only intent to destroy all that is tranquil and pure.
Reverence, service, love; the virtue of modest obedience,
Winning its way by thrift, anxious and eager to work;
These, the beginnings of all that a free and capable nation
Claims as its own by right, fosters and fans into life—
These are already destroy'd; the Parliament men have destroy'd them,
Nor shall the cries of the poor ever revive them again.
For we are come to a time when fools make laws for the wise men,
Setting them foully at naught, stripping their wisdom of power;
Which can be easily done, for the fools are counted by millions,
While, if a wise man rule, that is a wonder indeed.
Not to this world of ours, curst with a spirit of change;
Reckless and rabid and rude, still struggling and hurrying onward;
Only intent to destroy all that is tranquil and pure.
Reverence, service, love; the virtue of modest obedience,
Winning its way by thrift, anxious and eager to work;
These, the beginnings of all that a free and capable nation
Claims as its own by right, fosters and fans into life—
These are already destroy'd; the Parliament men have destroy'd them,
Nor shall the cries of the poor ever revive them again.
For we are come to a time when fools make laws for the wise men,
Setting them foully at naught, stripping their wisdom of power;
Which can be easily done, for the fools are counted by millions,
While, if a wise man rule, that is a wonder indeed.
Who but a fool would exact that none shall be bred to their callings
Till they are grown too old either to hear or obey;
Till they have learnt to despise the simple toil of their parents,
Caring no more for them, occupied only with self?—
Now, when 'tis best for a lad to labour and live in the country,
Doing the duties he knows, helping to better the land,
Tending the cattle and crops, in the place of his birth and nurture—
Now, he is taught to desire all that is worst in a town;
Lured to the crowded ranks of its stunted and sallow dependents,
Kept from his own calm sphere, gone where he never should go.
Till they are grown too old either to hear or obey;
Till they have learnt to despise the simple toil of their parents,
Caring no more for them, occupied only with self?—
Now, when 'tis best for a lad to labour and live in the country,
Doing the duties he knows, helping to better the land,
Tending the cattle and crops, in the place of his birth and nurture—
Now, he is taught to desire all that is worst in a town;
Lured to the crowded ranks of its stunted and sallow dependents,
Kept from his own calm sphere, gone where he never should go.
23
Yes, and the village maids, who should serve in a farm or a mansion,
Learning their household trade under a woman's control,
Safe in an orderly home, too young to be sinful or tempted—
These too are left to themselves, licensed to revel and roam;
Changing from place to place, still hankering after a sweetheart,
Who in his impudent arms brings them to sorrow and shame.
Learning their household trade under a woman's control,
Safe in an orderly home, too young to be sinful or tempted—
These too are left to themselves, licensed to revel and roam;
Changing from place to place, still hankering after a sweetheart,
Who in his impudent arms brings them to sorrow and shame.
Such are the feats of law; the acts of impoverish'd England,
Poor in the midst of her wealth, insolent, foolish, and vain;
Scorning with bitter contempt the eloquent voice of experience,
Scorning the patriot's call, even with danger at hand;
Not to be roused from dreams by the nearness of foreign invasion,
Till, in the day of her doom, all that she had disappear.
Poor in the midst of her wealth, insolent, foolish, and vain;
Scorning with bitter contempt the eloquent voice of experience,
Scorning the patriot's call, even with danger at hand;
Not to be roused from dreams by the nearness of foreign invasion,
Till, in the day of her doom, all that she had disappear.
| Relicta | |