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The Poetical Works of Ebenezer Elliott

Edited by his Son Edwin Elliott ... A New and Revised Edition: Two Volumes

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118

SONG.

[Let idlers despair! there is hope for the wise]

Let idlers despair! there is hope for the wise,
Who rely on their own hearts and hands;
And we read in their souls, by the flash of their eyes,
That our land is the noblest of lands.
Let knaves fear for England, whose thoughts wear a mask,
While a war on our trenchers they wage;
Free trade and no favour is all that we ask!
Fair play, and the world for a stage!
Secure in their baseness, the lofty and bold
Look down on their victims beneath;
Like snow on a skylight, exalted and cold,
They shine o'er the shadow of death;
In the warm sun of knowledge, that kindles our blood,
And fills our cheer'd spirits with day,
Their splendour, contemn'd by the brave and the good,
Like a palace of ice melts away.
Our compass, which married the East to the West,
Our press, which makes many minds one,
Our steam-sinew'd giant that toils without rest,
Proclaim that our perils are gone.

119

We want but the right, which the God of the right
Denies not to birds and to bees;
The charter of Nature! that bids the wing'd light
Fly chainless as winds o'er the seas.