A batch of war ballads By Martin F. Tupper |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. | IV.
THE RIGHT AND THE WRONG. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
 | A batch of war ballads |  |
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IV. THE RIGHT AND THE WRONG.
“Thou shalt not covet”:—righteous Czar
So orthodox and sound,
So swift to wage a Holy War
Lest heresies abound,—
Has ever that old sentence left
(In some more pious time)
Your soul imprest that thoughts of theft
Are nothing short of crime?
So orthodox and sound,
So swift to wage a Holy War
Lest heresies abound,—
Has ever that old sentence left
(In some more pious time)
Your soul imprest that thoughts of theft
Are nothing short of crime?
“Thou shalt not steal”:—illustrious Man,
The thief you brand and knout
Sins on a very petty plan
To this you set about;
What's in a hen, a horse, a sheep,
Whose loss some goodwife grieves,
To guilt that makes ten millions weep
Because a Monarch thieves?
The thief you brand and knout
Sins on a very petty plan
To this you set about;
What's in a hen, a horse, a sheep,
Whose loss some goodwife grieves,
To guilt that makes ten millions weep
Because a Monarch thieves?
“Thou shalt not murder”:—mighty Sire,
The cutthroat whom you hang
Has learnt his trade of some one higher,
And says he's of Your gang!
What's in one weasand slit—a boor's—
To slaughter, famine, fire,
Ravaging villages by scores,
To glut a Czar's desire?
The cutthroat whom you hang
Has learnt his trade of some one higher,
And says he's of Your gang!
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To slaughter, famine, fire,
Ravaging villages by scores,
To glut a Czar's desire?
O who can truly think or tell
The sorrows and the sins
This lust of conquest fierce and fell
Achieves when it begins?
What depth can gauge a despot's guilt
Whose dread ukase is still
To myriads—that their blood be spilt
To work one evil will!
The sorrows and the sins
This lust of conquest fierce and fell
Achieves when it begins?
What depth can gauge a despot's guilt
Whose dread ukase is still
To myriads—that their blood be spilt
To work one evil will!
But shall we tamely stand aside
To let a bandit's power,
Wholesale in guilt, and craft, and pride,
His neighbour's home devour?
Or blast half Europe's common weal,
And make the rest a wreck,
By suffering him to set his heel
Upon the world's broad neck?
To let a bandit's power,
Wholesale in guilt, and craft, and pride,
His neighbour's home devour?
Or blast half Europe's common weal,
And make the rest a wreck,
By suffering him to set his heel
Upon the world's broad neck?
No!—England, to whose crown belongs
The custody of Right,
Resolves to crush such utter wrongs
With all her main and might;
To vindicate eternal laws
At Duty's high behest,
And fighting in a righteous cause
For Right to do her best!
The custody of Right,
Resolves to crush such utter wrongs
With all her main and might;
To vindicate eternal laws
At Duty's high behest,
And fighting in a righteous cause
For Right to do her best!
| A batch of war ballads | |