THE PEASANTS’ REVOLT.

Thro’ the mists of years,

Thro’ the lies of men,

Your bloody sweat and tears,

Your desperate hopes and fears

Reach us once again.

Brothers, who long ago,

For life's bitter sake

Toiled and suffered so,

Robbery, insult, blow,

Rope and sword and stake:

Toiled and suffered, till

It burst, the brightening hope,

“Might and right” and “will and skill,”

That scorned, and does, and will,

Sword and stake and rope!

Wat and Jack and John,

Tyler, Straw, and Ball,

Souls that faltered not,

Hearts like white iron hot,

Still we hear your call!

Yes, your “bell is rung,”

Yes, for “now is time!”

Come hither, every one,

Brave ghosts whose day's not done,

Avengers of old rime,—

Come and lead the way,

Hushed, implacable,

Suffering no delay,

Forgetting not that day

Dreadful, hateful, fell,

When the liar king,

The liar gentlemen,

Wrought that foulest thing,

Robbing, murdering

Men who'd trusted them!

Come and lead the way,

Hushed, implacable.

What shall stop us, say,

On that day, our day?—

Not unloosened hell!