The Poetical Works of Ebenezer Elliott Edited by his Son Edwin Elliott ... A New and Revised Edition: Two Volumes |
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 | The Poetical Works of Ebenezer Elliott |  |
400
THE TRIUMPH OF REFORM.
WRITTEN FOR THE SHEFFIELD POLITICAL UNION.
When woe-worn France first sternly spread
Her banner'd rainbow on the wind;
To smite rebellious Reason dead,
The kings of many lands combined.
Did they triumph? So they deem'd:
Could they triumph? No!—They dream'd.
Her banner'd rainbow on the wind;
To smite rebellious Reason dead,
The kings of many lands combined.
Did they triumph? So they deem'd:
Could they triumph? No!—They dream'd.
From Freedom's ashes at their call
A form of might arose, and blazed:
'Tis true they saw the phantom fall;
'Tis true they crush'd the power they raised;
But in conflict with the wise,
Vain are armies, leagues, and lies.
A form of might arose, and blazed:
'Tis true they saw the phantom fall;
'Tis true they crush'd the power they raised;
But in conflict with the wise,
Vain are armies, leagues, and lies.
Not Freedom—no! but Freedom's foe,
The baffled league of kings o'erthrew;
We conquer'd them, though slaves can show
They conquer'd us at Waterloo:
Mind is mightier than the strong!
Right hath triumph'd over wrong!
The baffled league of kings o'erthrew;
We conquer'd them, though slaves can show
They conquer'd us at Waterloo:
Mind is mightier than the strong!
Right hath triumph'd over wrong!
401
By sordid lusts to ruin led,
Come England's foes, ye self-undone!
Behold for what ye taxed our bread!
Is this the Mont Saint Fean ye won?
Hark the rabble's triumph lay!—
Sturdy beggars! who are they?
Come England's foes, ye self-undone!
Behold for what ye taxed our bread!
Is this the Mont Saint Fean ye won?
Hark the rabble's triumph lay!—
Sturdy beggars! who are they?
Go, call your Czar! hire all his hordes!
Arm Cæsar Hardinge! League and plot!
Mind smites you with her wing of words,
And nought shall be, where mind is not.
Crush'd to nothing—what you are—
Wormlings! will ye prate of war?
Arm Cæsar Hardinge! League and plot!
Mind smites you with her wing of words,
And nought shall be, where mind is not.
Crush'd to nothing—what you are—
Wormlings! will ye prate of war?
No paltry fray, no bloody day,
That crowns with praise, the baby-great;
The Deed of Brougham, Russell, Grey,
The Deed that's done, we celebrate!
Mind's great Charter! Europe saved!
Man for ever unenslaved!
That crowns with praise, the baby-great;
The Deed of Brougham, Russell, Grey,
The Deed that's done, we celebrate!
Mind's great Charter! Europe saved!
Man for ever unenslaved!
O could the wise, the brave, the just,
Who suffer'd—died—to break our chains;
Could Muir, could Palmer, from the dust,
Could murder'd Gerald hear our strains;
Then would martyrs, throned in bliss,
See all ages bless'd in this.
Who suffer'd—died—to break our chains;
Could Muir, could Palmer, from the dust,
Could murder'd Gerald hear our strains;
Then would martyrs, throned in bliss,
See all ages bless'd in this.
| The Poetical Works of Ebenezer Elliott | |