The Mask of Anarchy by Percy Bysshe Shelley

I

As I lay asleep in Italy

There came a voice from over the Sea

And with great power it forth led me

To walk in the visions of Poesy.

II

I met Murder on the way -

He had a mask like Castlereagh -

Very smooth he looked, yet grim;

Seven blood-hounds followed him:

III

All were fat; and well they might

Be in admirable plight,

For one by one, and two by two,

He tossed them human hearts to chew

Which from his wide cloak he drew.

IV

Next came Fraud, and he had on,

Like Eldon, an ermined gown;

His big tears, for he wept well,

Turned to mill-stones as they fell.

V

And the little children, who

Round his feet played to and fro,

Thinking every tear a gem,

Had their brains knocked out by them.

VI

Clothed with the Bible, as with light,

And the shadows of the night,

Like Sidmouth, next, Hypocrisy

On a crocodile rode by.

VII

And many more Destructions played

In this ghastly masquerade,

All disguised, even to the eyes,

Like Bishops, lawyers, peers, or spies.

VIII

Last came Anarchy: he rode

On a white horse, splashed with blood;

He was pale even to the lips,

Like Death in the Apocalypse.

IX

And he wore a kingly crown;

And in his grasp a sceptre shone;

On his brow this mark I saw -

'I AM GOD, AND KING, AND LAW!'

X

With a pace stately and fast,

Over English land he passed,

Trampling to a mire of blood

The adoring multitude,

XI

And a mighty troop around,

With their trampling shook the ground,

Waving each a bloody sword,

For the service of their Lord.

XII

And with glorious triumph, they

Rode through England proud and gay,

Drunk as with intoxication

Of the wine of desolation.

XIII

O'er fields and towns, from sea to sea,

Passed the Pageant swift and free,

Tearing up, and trampling down;

Till they came to London town.

XIV

And each dweller, panic-stricken,

Felt his heart with terror sicken

Hearing the tempestuous cry

Of the triumph of Anarchy.

XV

For with pomp to meet him came,

Clothed in arms like blood and flame,

The hired murderers, who did sing

'Thou art God, and Law, and King.

XVI

'We have waited, weak and lone

For thy coming, Mighty One!

Our purses are empty, our swords are cold,

Give us glory, and blood, and gold.'

XVII

Lawyers and priests, a motley crowd,

To the earth their pale brows bowed;

Like a bad prayer not over loud

Whispering - 'Thou art Law and God.' -

XVIII

Then all cried with one accord,

'Thou art King, and God and Lord;

Anarchy, to thee we bow,

Be thy name made holy now!'

XIX

And Anarchy, the Skeleton,

Bowed and grinned to every one,

As well as if his education

Had cost ten millions to the nation.

XX

For he knew the Palaces

Of our Kings were rightly his;

His the sceptre, crown and globe,

And the gold-inwoven robe.

XXI

So he sent his slaves before

To seize upon the Bank and Tower,

And was proceeding with intent

To meet his pensioned Parliament

XXII

When one fled past, a maniac maid,

And her name was Hope, she said:

But she looked more like Despair,

And she cried out in the air:

XXIII

'My father Time is weak and gray

With waiting for a better day;

See how idiot-like he stands,

Fumbling with his palsied hands!

XXIV

‘He has had child after child,

And the dust of death is piled

Over every one but me -

Misery, oh, Misery!'

XXV

Then she lay down in the street,

Right before the horses' feet,

Expecting, with a patient eye,

Murder, Fraud, and Anarchy.

XXVI

When between her and her foes

A mist, a light, an image rose,

Small at first, and weak and frail

Like the vapour of a vale:

XXVII

Till as clouds grow on the blast,

Like tower-crowned giants striding fast,

And glare with lightnings as they fly,

And speak in thunder to the sky

XXVIII

It grew - a Shape arrayed in mail

Brighter than the viper's scale,

And upborne on wings whose grain

Was as the light of sunny rain.

XXIX

On its helm, seen far away,

A planet, like the Morning's, lay;

And those plumes its light rained through

Like a shower of crimson dew.

XXX

With step as soft as wind it passed,

O'er the heads of men - so fast

That they knew the presence there,

And looked, - but all was empty air.

XXXI

As flowers beneath May's footstep waken,

As stars from Night's loose hair are shaken,

As waves arise when loud winds call,

Thoughts sprung where'er that step did fall.

XXXII

And the prostrate multitude

Looked - and ankle-deep in blood,

Hope, that maiden most serene,

Was walking with a quiet mien:

XXXIII

And Anarchy, the ghastly birth,

Lay dead earth upon the earth;

The Horse of Death tameless as wind

Fled, and with his hoofs did grind

To dust the murderers thronged behind.

XXXIV

A rushing light of clouds and splendour,

A sense awakening and yet tender

Was heard and felt - and at its close

These words of joy and fear arose

XXXV

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

XXXVI

Had turnèd every drop of blood

By which her face had been bedewed

To an accent unwithstood, -

As if her heart had cried aloud:

XXXVII

'Men of England, heirs of Glory,

Heroes of unwritten story,

Nurslings of one mighty Mother,

Hopes of her, and one another;

XXXVIII

'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.’