THE MASK OF ANARCHY

Written on the Occasion of the Massacre at Manchester

[…]

As if their own indignant Earth
Which gave the Sons of England birth
Had felt their blood upon her brow,
And shuddering with a mother's throe

Had turned every droop of blood
By which her face had been bedewed
To an accent unwithstood —
As if her heart cried out aloud:

‘Men of England, Heirs of Glory,
Heroes of unwritten story,
Nurslings of one mighty Mother,
Hopes of her and one another

‘Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number,
Shake your chains to Earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you —
Ye are many — they are few.

‘What is Freedom? — ye can tell
That which slavery is, too well —
For its very name has grown
To an echo of your own.

‘’Tis to work and have such pay
As just keeps life from day to day
In your limbs, as in a cell
For the tyrants' use to dwell,

‘So that ye for them are made
Loom and plough and sword and spade,
With or without your own will bent
To their defence and nourishment;

‘’Tis to see your children weak
With their mothers pine and peak
When the winter winds are bleak —
They are dying whilst I speak;

[…]
(139-171)
                                                            (1819)

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última actualización: 17/12/2000