The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan :: :: University of Virginia Library

‘Lords of the Bread and the Land,
Cruel and empty of heart,
Low at your footstool we stand,
We who are Slaves of the Mart!
Ye have conquer'd the Earth and the Sea;
In glory of purple and gold
Your Empire rolls onward, but we
Stand bleeding and bare as of old;
Ye have stolen the soil of our birth,
With the flesh of our bones ye are fed,—
Who made ye the Masters of Earth?
Answer, ye Lords of the Bread!’

II

And the Lords of the Bread replied:
‘Hush, ye vain voices, be still!
With the God of the Strong for our guide
We have triumph'd and fatten'd our fill;
And lo! in our pride we upbuild
These Cities that look on the foam,
And the waves of the waters are stilled
And rock 'neath the grain-ships of Rome;
And from City to City march forth
Our legions with conquering tread:
Ye made us the Masters of Earth,
And the fulness thereof, and the Bread!’

III

Then answer'd the Slaves of the Mart:
‘Even so! ye are great, ye are strong!
But wherefore, O cruel of heart,
Deny us our birthright so long!

340

We launch'd ye these ships on the waves,
We plough'd both the Earth and the Deep,
And all that we ask for, your Slaves,
Is tithe of the treasure ye keep.
Ye have stolen the soil of our birth,
Your beasts with our harvests are fed,—
We made ye the Masters of Earth,
And left ye the Lords of the Bread!’

IV

The Lords of the Bread spoke again:
‘Lo, this is the Law,—so take heed,—
Who gains shall inherit his gain,
Yea, he and his uttermost seed!
With the Sword of the Strong in our hand
We keep what was stolen of yore,
For lo! we inherit the Land,
And ye can inherit no more—
Behold we rejoice and make mirth,
Though the mouth of the fool gapes unfed,
For we are the Masters of Earth,
And the fulness thereof, and the Bread!’

V

Then answer'd the Slaves of the Mart:
‘O traitors, O wolves in the fold,
The blood ye have wrung from the heart
Ye coin into drachmas of gold;
And the gold buys our sisters and wives,
And our children are sold for the same,
While ye stand on the wreck of our lives
Rejoicing, and trumpet your fame!
Accurst be this Land of our birth,
And woe to this Empire,’ they said,
‘If ye, the proud Masters of Earth,
Deny us our birthright of Bread!’