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137
TENTH OF APRIL.
“The Chartists were for the most part working men, who suffered from the distress then generally prevailing, and who looked to further reforms in the system of parliamentary representation for the means of mending their condition. Their name came from their ‘People's Charter,’ the document in which they set forth their demands—universal suffrage; vote by ballot; annual parliaments; the division of the country into equal electoral districts; the abolition of the property qualification of members, and payment of their services. After some rioting in 1839, the Chartists remained tolerably quiet until 1848, when, excited by the revolutions which took place that year in France and other parts of the Continent, they determined to make show of their strength. Mustering on the 10th April on Kennington Common, they designed to march through London to the House of Commons, carrying a petition embodying their demands, which they boasted, though not with truth, to bear more than five million signatures. This was to be presented by Fergus O'Connor, one of the members for Nottingham. Both the Government and the great body of the people met this threatening movement with firmness. The Londoners, to the number of a quarter of a million, enrolled themselves as special constables; the Chartists were not allowed to cross the bridges in procession, and the whole affair passed off quietly, without the troops, which the Duke of Wellington had posted out of sight but at hand, having any need to show themselves. From this time the Chartists ceased to be of any importance as an organised body; but three of the reforms for which they contended have since been carried out by the Acts which abolished the property qualifications, and granted well-nigh universal suffrage and vote by ballot.”—History of England, by Miss Edith Thompson.
The morning breaks, the light streams far and wide,
And London rises, like a king defied,
In heart and purpose strong;
And as bold wrestlers crowned for famous feats,
His sons are gathering; brother brother greets;
A flood of life rolls surging through the streets,
And bursts and foams along.
And London rises, like a king defied,
In heart and purpose strong;
And as bold wrestlers crowned for famous feats,
His sons are gathering; brother brother greets;
A flood of life rolls surging through the streets,
And bursts and foams along.
But lo! they march—the foe is on his way;
Our England's rebel children meet to-day,
And force must force oppose.
To loyal hearts the ancient laws are dear;
Who love them not, nor hold in sacred fear
The primal order, shaping soul and sphere,
To loyal hearts are foes.
Our England's rebel children meet to-day,
And force must force oppose.
To loyal hearts the ancient laws are dear;
Who love them not, nor hold in sacred fear
The primal order, shaping soul and sphere,
To loyal hearts are foes.
From many a lonely alley, dank and green,
From mouldy vault, dark cell, and garret mean,
The reckless inmates haste;
Men whom no thought of self-respect sustains,
Who scorn the meed which genuine manhood gains,
Are hurrying through a thousand streets and lanes,
To Kennington's broad waste.
From mouldy vault, dark cell, and garret mean,
The reckless inmates haste;
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Who scorn the meed which genuine manhood gains,
Are hurrying through a thousand streets and lanes,
To Kennington's broad waste.
Men with low brow, thick lip, and lustful glare,
Men with a reckless and defiant air,
Men that avoid the sun;
Men to whom earth and sky make vain appeal,
Who under starry heavens no wonder feel;
Men who to no celestial brightness kneel,
And are in want of none.
Men with a reckless and defiant air,
Men that avoid the sun;
Men to whom earth and sky make vain appeal,
Who under starry heavens no wonder feel;
Men who to no celestial brightness kneel,
And are in want of none.
Thick was this scum upon the cauldron's top,
And scant amid the tares the white corn-crop,
Yet there some hearts were found
Who felt that they could nobly do or die—
Who felt, though earth was low, that heaven was high,
And loved their brother-men beneath the sky,
And loved their native ground.
And scant amid the tares the white corn-crop,
Yet there some hearts were found
Who felt that they could nobly do or die—
Who felt, though earth was low, that heaven was high,
And loved their brother-men beneath the sky,
And loved their native ground.
Men who had worked and worked, till life would seem
A purposeless and incoherent dream,
All pulley, wheel, and screw—
Swaying and straining, shifting to and fro,
With hiss, and clang, and bang, and stress, and blow,
With infant's screams, and woman's notes of woe,
That sharper, shriller grew.
A purposeless and incoherent dream,
All pulley, wheel, and screw—
Swaying and straining, shifting to and fro,
With hiss, and clang, and bang, and stress, and blow,
With infant's screams, and woman's notes of woe,
That sharper, shriller grew.
139
Men that had worked and worked till work was none,
Men that stood workless, wageless, under sun;
Men of an honest fame—
Men that had asked for guidance—men that loved
When some wise lordly presence near them moved,
Whom England's peerage had perchance approved,
Had it but shot its game.
Men that stood workless, wageless, under sun;
Men of an honest fame—
Men that had asked for guidance—men that loved
When some wise lordly presence near them moved,
Whom England's peerage had perchance approved,
Had it but shot its game.
Men that asked work alone that they might work,
Of stalwart frame, inured to dungeon murk,
To mine, to forge, and trench;
Men who would love their little ones and wives,
And lead, in quiet homes, calm, thoughtful lives;
Men in whose heart a latent grandeur strives—
A fire that none should quench.
Of stalwart frame, inured to dungeon murk,
To mine, to forge, and trench;
Men who would love their little ones and wives,
And lead, in quiet homes, calm, thoughtful lives;
Men in whose heart a latent grandeur strives—
A fire that none should quench.
Men who have prayed till tears stood in their eyes,
Have watched the morning and the evening skies,
And felt the glory there;
Who, with an endless brightness round them thrown,
Have journeyed through the wilderness alone,
Have sung and smiled, but now must frown and groan
In pain and wild despair.
Have watched the morning and the evening skies,
And felt the glory there;
Who, with an endless brightness round them thrown,
Have journeyed through the wilderness alone,
Have sung and smiled, but now must frown and groan
In pain and wild despair.
Alas! our English chivalry hath slept,
Our English lords have idle revel kept,
Our Church forborne to preach.
Where the true guides are not, will false guides come;
Too long the English people has been dumb,
But now perchance it will enforce on some
The lesson it should teach.
Our English lords have idle revel kept,
Our Church forborne to preach.
140
Too long the English people has been dumb,
But now perchance it will enforce on some
The lesson it should teach.
Nay, England's people are a slow, shrewd race,
Wise and clear-sighted, and with natural grace
Loving the old and good;
Paying due reverence to the ancient laws,
Loving the majesty that overawes,
Slow to believe in any “Sacred Cause,”
It stands where it has stood.
Wise and clear-sighted, and with natural grace
Loving the old and good;
Paying due reverence to the ancient laws,
Loving the majesty that overawes,
Slow to believe in any “Sacred Cause,”
It stands where it has stood.
Nay, fraud and violence shall not prevail,
Brute force is clad in no bright coat of mail,
True strength is with the just.
Who would be rich, must work; who would be free,
Must first by wisdom earn their liberty—
Must be self-governed, must self-balanced be,
Checking all sensual lust.
Brute force is clad in no bright coat of mail,
True strength is with the just.
Who would be rich, must work; who would be free,
Must first by wisdom earn their liberty—
Must be self-governed, must self-balanced be,
Checking all sensual lust.
It is not England that has found a voice—
It is an English mob that would rejoice
To see true freedom dead!
And thus the English people answer—“No!
An endless debt to our dear land we owe;
And, but for love of her, we would not go
Where these vain men are led.
It is an English mob that would rejoice
To see true freedom dead!
And thus the English people answer—“No!
An endless debt to our dear land we owe;
And, but for love of her, we would not go
Where these vain men are led.
141
“We build our house on the eternal rock,
That fears nor rolling storm nor earthquake's shock;
We stand for Law and Truth.
We love all straight, detest all crooked ways:
He only governs well who well obeys;
Brave hearts endure through long lone silent days;
Best man was humblest youth.
That fears nor rolling storm nor earthquake's shock;
We stand for Law and Truth.
We love all straight, detest all crooked ways:
He only governs well who well obeys;
Brave hearts endure through long lone silent days;
Best man was humblest youth.
“We will not rise with you, misguided men,
O Shapes of Darkness, bred in Horror's den,
We will not rise with you!
Nay, since you challenge England, England's might
Shall be arrayed against you, and in fight,
Still vindicating the eternal right,
Shall try what ye can do.”
O Shapes of Darkness, bred in Horror's den,
We will not rise with you!
Nay, since you challenge England, England's might
Shall be arrayed against you, and in fight,
Still vindicating the eternal right,
Shall try what ye can do.”
Thus said the people when the mob arose,
And thus the people did the mob oppose.
They had their gathering next,
Sound hearts and noble, gentle souls and brave,
The beautiful and strong, the wise and grave,
Are mustering with a fixed resolve to save
Their country sore perplexed.
And thus the people did the mob oppose.
They had their gathering next,
Sound hearts and noble, gentle souls and brave,
The beautiful and strong, the wise and grave,
Are mustering with a fixed resolve to save
Their country sore perplexed.
They are all bound by one great solemn oath,
To their loved Fatherland have plighted troth,
Are silent, steady, strong.
Touched with a sparkle of the true old fire,
Age with firm tread, and youth with quick desire,
As to the harmony of some great lyre,
Step, stately step along.
To their loved Fatherland have plighted troth,
Are silent, steady, strong.
142
Age with firm tread, and youth with quick desire,
As to the harmony of some great lyre,
Step, stately step along.
Yet was there scum upon this cauldron's top,
Yet were there tares amid the white corn-crop;
For many a man was there
Within whose heart no fire ethereal glowed,
Who travelled on no consecrated road,
Who dreamed not of the endless debt he owed
To all that breathe the air.
Yet were there tares amid the white corn-crop;
For many a man was there
Within whose heart no fire ethereal glowed,
Who travelled on no consecrated road,
Who dreamed not of the endless debt he owed
To all that breathe the air.
But why should I thus linger in my lay?
The dreaded danger now hath past away;
Our England lives once more.
Wave, wave your banners, let your bugles sound!
O countrymen! look cheerily around;
Thank God that you are safe on English ground,
And that the storm is o'er.
The dreaded danger now hath past away;
Our England lives once more.
Wave, wave your banners, let your bugles sound!
O countrymen! look cheerily around;
Thank God that you are safe on English ground,
And that the storm is o'er.
And yet, O priests, O nobles! do not say
The peril has for ever past away—
The storm may blow again.
A struggle yet may come, a lofty pact
May bind the nation; for an awful fact
Lies burning under this rebellious act,
And may break out amain.
The peril has for ever past away—
The storm may blow again.
A struggle yet may come, a lofty pact
May bind the nation; for an awful fact
Lies burning under this rebellious act,
And may break out amain.
143
This wild impatience and this clamorous prayer,
And this huge Charter, carted here and there,
Have they no meaning—none?
Believe me there are gentle, loving souls,
Hearts which a nobler fear than yours controls,
Hearts struggling through life's quicksands and its shoals,
Torn, bleeding, and undone.
And this huge Charter, carted here and there,
Have they no meaning—none?
Believe me there are gentle, loving souls,
Hearts which a nobler fear than yours controls,
Hearts struggling through life's quicksands and its shoals,
Torn, bleeding, and undone.
Were it not worth your while to save such hearts?
The sun still shines, but soon the light departs!
Oh, work while yet it gleams;
And these wild rebels, they will love you well,
For in their heart great starry feelings dwell;
They too have heard the heavenly oracle,
And dreamed their golden dreams.
The sun still shines, but soon the light departs!
Oh, work while yet it gleams;
And these wild rebels, they will love you well,
For in their heart great starry feelings dwell;
They too have heard the heavenly oracle,
And dreamed their golden dreams.
I know that duty is the end of life,
I know that peace is lovely, hateful strife,
That loyalty is fair;
I know that some must rule and some obey;
I do not ask you to renounce your sway,
But to make noble efforts while you may,
To dare and yet to dare.
I know that peace is lovely, hateful strife,
That loyalty is fair;
I know that some must rule and some obey;
I do not ask you to renounce your sway,
But to make noble efforts while you may,
To dare and yet to dare.
Your Norman fathers, in the days of old,
In their good ships, with vassals true and bold,
Would seek and find a land
Where they might live and work, and in broad space
Sow, reap, build, hunt, and rule a valiant race,
Make righteous laws, and rule men face to face
With kindly heart and hand.
In their good ships, with vassals true and bold,
Would seek and find a land
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Sow, reap, build, hunt, and rule a valiant race,
Make righteous laws, and rule men face to face
With kindly heart and hand.
O nobles! could ye not across the seas
One voyage go, quitting your silken ease?
Ships have you, vassals strong—
Broad fields there are beneath the western heaven,
And eastward, isles and mainlands shall be given,
To all that well have planned and bravely striven,
Like heroes of old song.
One voyage go, quitting your silken ease?
Ships have you, vassals strong—
Broad fields there are beneath the western heaven,
And eastward, isles and mainlands shall be given,
To all that well have planned and bravely striven,
Like heroes of old song.
Gold harvests in those distant lands shall gleam,
Glad cities rise more lovely than in dream,
Flowers wave, and waters glance.
O noble authors! that so well deplore
That the great age of chivalry is o'er,
It rests with you, you only, to restore
The world its old romance.
Glad cities rise more lovely than in dream,
Flowers wave, and waters glance.
O noble authors! that so well deplore
That the great age of chivalry is o'er,
It rests with you, you only, to restore
The world its old romance.
O priests who mourn that reverence is dead!
Man quits a fading faith, and asks instead
A worship great and true.
I know that there was once a Church where men
Caught glimpses of the gods believed in then;
I dream that there shall be such Church again.
O dream! come true, come true!
Man quits a fading faith, and asks instead
A worship great and true.
I know that there was once a Church where men
Caught glimpses of the gods believed in then;
I dream that there shall be such Church again.
O dream! come true, come true!
145
O priests! O nobles! still the time is ours—
You still are thrones, are princedoms, virtues, powers;
Look round and know your work.
No battlefield awaits you—sheathe your swords;
Look round upon these toiling, starving hordes;
Not in name only, but in deed be lords,—
Night comes, blank, chill, and murk.
You still are thrones, are princedoms, virtues, powers;
Look round and know your work.
No battlefield awaits you—sheathe your swords;
Look round upon these toiling, starving hordes;
Not in name only, but in deed be lords,—
Night comes, blank, chill, and murk.
Oh, guide and govern England! look to facts;
The native Noble in the Present acts,
His chivalry lies here.
Make labour honourable, safe and fair,
Make commerce free and liberal as the air,
And be the knights that your forefathers were,
Without reproach or fear.
The native Noble in the Present acts,
His chivalry lies here.
Make labour honourable, safe and fair,
Make commerce free and liberal as the air,
And be the knights that your forefathers were,
Without reproach or fear.
So all intolerable wrong shall fade,
No brother shall a brother's rights invade,
But all shall champion all;
Then men shall bear, with an unconquered will
And iron heart, the inevitable ill,
O'er pain, wrong, passion, death victorious still,
And calm though suns should fall.
No brother shall a brother's rights invade,
But all shall champion all;
Then men shall bear, with an unconquered will
And iron heart, the inevitable ill,
O'er pain, wrong, passion, death victorious still,
And calm though suns should fall.
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