My Lyrical Life Poems Old and New. By Gerald Massey |
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ENGLAND AND LOUIS NAPOLEON. |
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 | My Lyrical Life |  |
ENGLAND AND LOUIS NAPOLEON.
There was a poor old Woman once, a daughter of our nation,
Before the Devil's portrait stood in ignorant adoration.
“You're bowing down to Satan, Ma'am,” said some Spectator civil:
“Ah, Sir, it's best to be polite, for we may go to the Devil.”
Bow, bow, bow:
We may go to the Devil, so it's just as well to bow.
Before the Devil's portrait stood in ignorant adoration.
“You're bowing down to Satan, Ma'am,” said some Spectator civil:
“Ah, Sir, it's best to be polite, for we may go to the Devil.”
Bow, bow, bow:
We may go to the Devil, so it's just as well to bow.
373
So England hails the Saviour of Society, and will tarry at
His feet, nor see her Christ is he who sold him, cursed Iscariot.
By grace of God, or sleight of hand, he wears the royal vesture,
And at thy throne, Divine Success! we kneel with reverent gesture,
And bow, bow, bow:
We may go to the Devil, so it's just as well to bow.
His feet, nor see her Christ is he who sold him, cursed Iscariot.
By grace of God, or sleight of hand, he wears the royal vesture,
And at thy throne, Divine Success! we kneel with reverent gesture,
And bow, bow, bow:
We may go to the Devil, so it's just as well to bow.
O when the Sun is over us, we venerate the sunlight;
But when Eclipse is over it, we venerate the dunlight.
No matter what is uppermost, upon All-fours we revel,
And when Hell triumphs over Heaven—conciliate the Devil,
And bow, bow, bow:
We may go to the Devil, so it's just as well to bow.
But when Eclipse is over it, we venerate the dunlight.
No matter what is uppermost, upon All-fours we revel,
And when Hell triumphs over Heaven—conciliate the Devil,
And bow, bow, bow:
We may go to the Devil, so it's just as well to bow.
Ah, Louis, had you come to us despisèd and rejected,
You might have gone to—Coventry, unnoticed and neglected:
But as you've done one Nation so, and left another undone,
We kiss you Sire at Windsor—crown you more than king in London,
And bow, bow, bow:
We may go to the Devil, so it's just as well to bow.
You might have gone to—Coventry, unnoticed and neglected:
But as you've done one Nation so, and left another undone,
We kiss you Sire at Windsor—crown you more than king in London,
And bow, bow, bow:
We may go to the Devil, so it's just as well to bow.
374
Our Idol's hands are red with blood, with blood his eyes are sodden,
But we know 'tis only guilty blood which he has spilt and trodden!
He wears the imperial purple now, that plotting Prince of evil;
He lets us share his glory if we bow down to the Devil;
And we bow, bow, bow:
We may go to the Devil, so it's just as well to bow.
But we know 'tis only guilty blood which he has spilt and trodden!
He wears the imperial purple now, that plotting Prince of evil;
He lets us share his glory if we bow down to the Devil;
And we bow, bow, bow:
We may go to the Devil, so it's just as well to bow.
With hand to hilt, and ear to earth, waits Revolution, breathless,
To catch the resurrection-sound of Liberty the deathless!
We see no Danger hug us round—no Sword hang o'er us gory,
While to this mocking Mirage in the sunset of our glory
We bow, bow, bow:
We may go to the Devil, so it's just as well to bow.
To catch the resurrection-sound of Liberty the deathless!
We see no Danger hug us round—no Sword hang o'er us gory,
While to this mocking Mirage in the sunset of our glory
We bow, bow, bow:
We may go to the Devil, so it's just as well to bow.
Back, back, you foolish Peoples, slink into your weeping places,
Quench Freedom's torch in tears, and put her light out in your faces:
The heart of England beats no more to the old heroic level;
The poor old Woman bows before her Portrait of the Devil.
Bow, bow, bow:
We may go to the Devil, so it's just as well to bow.
Quench Freedom's torch in tears, and put her light out in your faces:
The heart of England beats no more to the old heroic level;
The poor old Woman bows before her Portrait of the Devil.
Bow, bow, bow:
We may go to the Devil, so it's just as well to bow.
| My Lyrical Life | |