Mundi et Cordis De Rebus Sempiternis et Temporariis: Carmina. Poems and Sonnets. By Thomas Wade |
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 | Mundi et Cordis |  |
2. A SONG OF THE PEOPLE.
The Hoary Dotard, Aristocracy,
Shakes in his crumbling palace-halls; for, hark!
On the broad Ocean of Democracy
Floats Liberty, prepared to disembark
On her predestin'd strand,
This English land!
In glory, o'er a world of tribulation,
She raiseth her bright banner—as the Sun
O'er clouds and storms ascendeth burningly—
And, with a loud and multitudinous voice,
The millions of the congregated Nation
(Myriad-lipp'd; but its great hearts as one!) Rejoice!
They fear! The Few who on our lives have fed—
The Tramplers on the Many—turn in dread!
And we, the mighty People, to regain
Our stolen birthright have not wrought in vain—
We live! we live, again!
Shakes in his crumbling palace-halls; for, hark!
On the broad Ocean of Democracy
Floats Liberty, prepared to disembark
On her predestin'd strand,
This English land!
272
She raiseth her bright banner—as the Sun
O'er clouds and storms ascendeth burningly—
And, with a loud and multitudinous voice,
The millions of the congregated Nation
(Myriad-lipp'd; but its great hearts as one!) Rejoice!
They fear! The Few who on our lives have fed—
The Tramplers on the Many—turn in dread!
And we, the mighty People, to regain
Our stolen birthright have not wrought in vain—
We live! we live, again!
Still bloodless be the sword we draw,
To make our lawful wills the law
O'er dull Convention, Tyranny and Wrong,
Made by the Ignorance of Ages strong!
No gory weapon will we deign to wield,
Drenching with brother-blood our brother's field;
Dungeons and chains, death-blocks and torturings
Shall vanish from the world with Slaves and Kings:
We fight to conquer and convert our Foes;
Not use them bloodily! From Freedom flows
Nor human tears, nor human gore:
With spiritual weapons for things spiritual
The living Many battle, as of yore
Did here and there some solitary Sage,
The one soul-beacon of his mindless Age!
For Knowledge now on myriad wings
From the Press, self-plumed, springs
And floats around us all!
We have not striven in vain
Against the tyrant-chain!
They fear! The Few who on our lives have fed—
The Tramplers on the Many—turn in dread!
We live! we live, again!
To make our lawful wills the law
O'er dull Convention, Tyranny and Wrong,
Made by the Ignorance of Ages strong!
No gory weapon will we deign to wield,
Drenching with brother-blood our brother's field;
Dungeons and chains, death-blocks and torturings
Shall vanish from the world with Slaves and Kings:
We fight to conquer and convert our Foes;
Not use them bloodily! From Freedom flows
Nor human tears, nor human gore:
With spiritual weapons for things spiritual
273
Did here and there some solitary Sage,
The one soul-beacon of his mindless Age!
For Knowledge now on myriad wings
From the Press, self-plumed, springs
And floats around us all!
We have not striven in vain
Against the tyrant-chain!
They fear! The Few who on our lives have fed—
The Tramplers on the Many—turn in dread!
We live! we live, again!
| Mundi et Cordis | |