The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince Edited by R. A. Douglas Lithgow |
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THE POOR MAN'S APPEAL. |
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 | The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince |  |
144
THE POOR MAN'S APPEAL.
Look down upon the people, gracious God!
The suffering millions need thy special care;
For cruel laws are made to curse the sod
Which thou hast made so fertile and so fair;
Laws which, like harpies on our vitals fed,
Snatch from our lips the life-sustaining bread.
The suffering millions need thy special care;
For cruel laws are made to curse the sod
Which thou hast made so fertile and so fair;
Laws which, like harpies on our vitals fed,
Snatch from our lips the life-sustaining bread.
Thou smilest on the fruit-tree and the field,
And beauteous bounty springeth into birth;
Thou breathest in the seasons, and they yield
More than enough for every child of earth:
Then is it just that we should pine and die,
'Mid blessings broad and boundless as the sky?
And beauteous bounty springeth into birth;
Thou breathest in the seasons, and they yield
More than enough for every child of earth:
Then is it just that we should pine and die,
'Mid blessings broad and boundless as the sky?
Listen, ye wealthy magnates of the land,
Girt with the splendour of your palace halls;
Listen, ye mingled law-creating band,
Our chosen voice within the senate walls;
Let wisdom guide your delegated power,
For danger thrives with each succeeding hour.
Girt with the splendour of your palace halls;
Listen, ye mingled law-creating band,
Our chosen voice within the senate walls;
Let wisdom guide your delegated power,
For danger thrives with each succeeding hour.
Who raised our country's greatness?—Britain's slaves,
Chained to the oar of unrequited toil;
The seaman wrestling with the winds and waves,—
The ploughman fainting o'er the furrowed soil,
And all the victims of Misfortune's frown,
Who fill the windings of the sickly town:
Chained to the oar of unrequited toil;
The seaman wrestling with the winds and waves,—
The ploughman fainting o'er the furrowed soil,
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Who fill the windings of the sickly town:
The famished weaver, bending o'er his loom,
Venting his agonies with smothered breath;
The miner, buried in unbroken gloom,
Looking for life amid the damps of death;
Young children, too, have borne unheeded pains,
To swell the stream of your unhallowed gains.
Venting his agonies with smothered breath;
The miner, buried in unbroken gloom,
Looking for life amid the damps of death;
Young children, too, have borne unheeded pains,
To swell the stream of your unhallowed gains.
If ye are husbands, loving and beloved,—
If ye are fathers, in your offspring blest,—
If ye are men, by human passions moved,
Let truth and justice plead for the oppressed:
The sorrowing mothers of our babes behold,
Whose homes are sad, and comfortless, and cold.
If ye are fathers, in your offspring blest,—
If ye are men, by human passions moved,
Let truth and justice plead for the oppressed:
The sorrowing mothers of our babes behold,
Whose homes are sad, and comfortless, and cold.
Lo! fettered Commerce droops her feeble wing,
And ships lie freightless on the heaving main:
No more with busy sounds our harbours ring—
The breezes come, the tides go back in vain;
And England's artizans, a squalid brood,
Creep from their homes and supplicate for food.
And ships lie freightless on the heaving main:
No more with busy sounds our harbours ring—
The breezes come, the tides go back in vain;
And England's artizans, a squalid brood,
Creep from their homes and supplicate for food.
Our once proud marts are desolate and lone,—
Our patriots trembling for the nation's fame;
Prison and poor-house, gorged with victims, groan
With complicated misery and shame;
And public pride, and private joy, no more
Can find a place on our unhappy shore.
Our patriots trembling for the nation's fame;
Prison and poor-house, gorged with victims, groan
With complicated misery and shame;
And public pride, and private joy, no more
Can find a place on our unhappy shore.
Behold where many-armed Rebellion walks,
Gaunt, fierce, and fearless, in the eye of day;
And Crime, the offspring of Oppression, stalks
'Mid scenes of strife, and terror, and dismay;
And Vengeance bares his arm, and lifts the brand,
To sweep Injustice from the groaning land.
Gaunt, fierce, and fearless, in the eye of day;
And Crime, the offspring of Oppression, stalks
'Mid scenes of strife, and terror, and dismay;
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To sweep Injustice from the groaning land.
Forth rush the multitude in mad career,
For unrelenting hunger goads them on;
Stern Anarchy is leagued with frantic Fear;
Safety, and Peace, and Liberty are gone;
Mighty and mean are mingled in the fall,
Now Ruin comes and tramples upon all.
For unrelenting hunger goads them on;
Stern Anarchy is leagued with frantic Fear;
Safety, and Peace, and Liberty are gone;
Mighty and mean are mingled in the fall,
Now Ruin comes and tramples upon all.
Such is, or shall be, the disastrous end
Of all your stubborn policy and pride:
A wakening people must and will contend
For rights withheld, and sustenance denied:
Thoughts of the painful present and the past
Must bring the hour of reckoning at last.
Of all your stubborn policy and pride:
A wakening people must and will contend
For rights withheld, and sustenance denied:
Thoughts of the painful present and the past
Must bring the hour of reckoning at last.
Be timely just,—your granary gates unbar,—
Let Plenty's golden banner be unfurled;
Let Trade with wingèd ships speed wide and far,
Laden to every corner of the world:
Let Knowledge soothe, let Labour feed the poor,
And make the freedom of the land secure.
Let Plenty's golden banner be unfurled;
Let Trade with wingèd ships speed wide and far,
Laden to every corner of the world:
Let Knowledge soothe, let Labour feed the poor,
And make the freedom of the land secure.
Then love, and peace, and virtue shall be found,
Where erst sat discord, hatred, and despair;
Then man shall sow, and God shall bless the ground,
And none shall murmur at another's share;
A social grandeur, and a moral grace
Shall warm each heart, and brighten every face!
Where erst sat discord, hatred, and despair;
Then man shall sow, and God shall bless the ground,
And none shall murmur at another's share;
A social grandeur, and a moral grace
Shall warm each heart, and brighten every face!
| The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince | |