LXXV.

"Be your strong and simple words Keen to wound as sharpened swords, And wide as targes let them be, With their shade to cover ye.

LXXVI.

"Let the tyrants pour around
With a quick and startling sound,
Like the loosening of a sea,
Troops of armed emblazonry.

LXXVII.

"Let the charged artillery drive,
Till the dead air seems alive
With the clash of clanging wheels,
And the tramp of horses' heels.

LXXVIII.

"Let the fixed bayonet

Gleam with sharp desire to wet
Its bright point in English blood,
Looking keen as one for food.

LXXIX.

Let the horsemen's scimitars
Wheel and flash, like sphereless stars,
Thirsting to eclipse their burning
In a sea of death and mourning.

LXXX.

"Stand ye calm and resolute,

Like a forest close and mute,

With folded arms, and looks which are
Weapons of an unvanquished war.

LXXXI.

"And let Panic, who outspeeds

The career of armed steeds,
Pass, a disregarded shade,

Through your phalanx undismayed.

LXXXII.

"Let the laws of your own land,
Good or ill, between ye stand,
Hand to hand, and foot to foot,
Arbiters of the dispute:

LXXXIII.

"The old laws of England-they

Whose reverend heads with age are gray,

Children of a wiser day;

And whose solemn voice must be

Thine own echo-Liberty!

LXXXIV.

"On those who first should violate
Such sacred heralds in their state,
Rest the blood that must ensue ;
And it will not rest on you.
15

VOL. III.

LXXXV.

"And if then the tyrants dare,
Let them ride among you there;
Slash, and stab, and maim, and hew;
What they like, that let them do.

LXXXVI.

"With folded arms and steady eyes,
And little fear, and less surprise,
Look upon them as they slay,
Till their rage has died away:

LXXXVII.

"Then they will return with shame
To the place from which they came,
And the blood thus shed will speak
In hot blushes on their cheek:

LXXXVIII.

"Every woman in the land

Will point at them as they stand;
They will hardly dare to greet
Their acquaintance in the street:

LXXXIX.

“And the bold true warriors,

Who have hugged danger in the wars, Will turn to those who would be free, Ashamed of such base company:

XC.

"And that slaughter to the nation Shall steam up like inspiration, Eloquent, oracular,

A volcano heard afar:

XCI.

"And these words shall then become Like oppression's thundered doom, Ringing through each heart and brain, Heard again-again—again!

XCII.

"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!"