Songs Before Sunrise

<h2><SPAN name="page211"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>AN APPEAL</h2> <h3>I</h3> <p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Art</span> thou indeed among these,<br/> Thou of the tyrannous crew,<br/> The kingdoms fed upon blood,<br/> O queen from of old of the seas,<br/> England, art thou of them too<br/> That drink of the poisonous flood,<br/> That hide under poisonous trees?</p> <h3>II</h3> <p class="poetry">Nay, thy name from of old,<br/> Mother, was pure, or we dreamed<br/> Purer we held thee than this,<br/> Purer fain would we hold;<br/> So goodly a glory it seemed,<br/> A fame so bounteous of bliss,<br/> So more precious than gold.</p> <h3>III</h3> <p class="poetry">A praise so sweet in our ears,<br/> That thou in the tempest of things<br/> As a rock for a refuge shouldst stand,<br/> In the bloodred river of tears<br/> Poured forth for the triumph of kings;<br/> A safeguard, a sheltering land,<br/> In the thunder and torrent of years.</p> <h3><SPAN name="page212"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>IV</h3> <p class="poetry">Strangers came gladly to thee,<br/> Exiles, chosen of men,<br/> Safe for thy sake in thy shade,<br/> Sat down at thy feet and were free.<br/> So men spake of thee then;<br/> Now shall their speaking be stayed?<br/> Ah, so let it not be!</p> <h3>V</h3> <p class="poetry">Not for revenge or affright,<br/> Pride, or a tyrannous lust,<br/> Cast from thee the crown of thy praise.<br/> Mercy was thine in thy might;<br/> Strong when thou wert, thou wert just;<br/> Now, in the wrong-doing days,<br/> Cleave thou, thou at least, to the right.</p> <h3>VI</h3> <p class="poetry">How should one charge thee, how sway,<br/> Save by the memories that were?<br/> Not thy gold nor the strength of thy ships,<br/> Nor the might of thine armies at bay,<br/> Made thee, mother, most fair;<br/> But a word from republican lips<br/> Said in thy name in thy day.</p> <h3>VII</h3> <p class="poetry">Hast thou said it, and hast thou forgot?<br/> Is thy praise in thine ears as a scoff?<br/> Blood of men guiltless was shed,<br/> Children, and souls without spot,<br/> <SPAN name="page213"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>Shed, but in places far off;<br/> <i>Let slaughter no more be</i>, said<br/> Milton; and slaughter was not.</p> <h3>VIII</h3> <p class="poetry">Was it not said of thee too,<br/> Now, but now, by thy foes,<br/> By the slaves that had slain their France,<br/> And thee would slay as they slew&mdash;<br/> &ldquo;Down with her walls that enclose<br/> Freemen that eye us askance,<br/> Fugitives, men that are true!&rdquo;</p> <h3>IX</h3> <p class="poetry">This was thy praise or thy blame<br/> From bondsman or freeman&mdash;to be<br/> Pure from pollution of slaves,<br/> Clean of their sins, and thy name<br/> Bloodless, innocent, free;<br/> Now if thou be not, thy waves<br/> Wash not from off thee thy shame.</p> <h3>X</h3> <p class="poetry">Freeman he is not, but slave,<br/> Whoso in fear for the State<br/> Cries for surety of blood,<br/> Help of gibbet and grave;<br/> Neither is any land great<br/> Whom, in her fear-stricken mood,<br/> These things only can save.</p> <h3><SPAN name="page214"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>XI</h3> <p class="poetry">Lo, how fair from afar,<br/> Taintless of tyranny, stands<br/> Thy mighty daughter, for years<br/> Who trod the winepress of war;<br/> Shines with immaculate hands;<br/> Slays not a foe, neither fears;<br/> Stains not peace with a scar.</p> <h3>XII</h3> <p class="poetry">Be not as tyrant or slave,<br/> England; be not as these,<br/> Thou that wert other than they.<br/> Stretch out thine hand, but to save;<br/> Put forth thy strength, and release;<br/> Lest there arise, if thou slay,<br/> Thy shame as a ghost from the grave.</p> <p><i>November</i> 20, 1867.</p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />