The Mask of Anarchy:Written on the Occasion of the Massacre at Manchester

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1As I lay asleep in Italy

2There came a voice from over the Sea,

3And with great power it forth led me

4To walk in the visions of Poesy.

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5I met Murder on the way—

6He had a mask like Castlereagh—

7Very smooth he looked, yet grim;

8Seven blood-hounds followed him:

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9All were fat; and well they might

10Be in admirable plight,

11For one by one, and two by two,

12He tossed them human hearts to chew

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13Which from his wide cloak he drew.

14Next came Fraud, and he had on,

15Like Eldon, an ermined gown;

16His big tears, for he wept well,

17Turned to mill-stones as they fell.

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18And the little children, who

19Round his feet played to and fro,

20Thinking every tear a gem,

21Had their brains knocked out by them.

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22Clothed with the Bible, as with light,

23And the shadows of the night,

24Like Sidmouth, next, Hypocrisy

25On a crocodile rode by.

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26And many more Destructions played

27In this ghastly masquerade,

28All disguised, even to the eyes,

29Like Bishops, lawyers, peers, or spies.

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30Last came Anarchy: he rode

31On a white horse, splashed with blood;

32He was pale even to the lips,

33Like Death in the Apocalypse.

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34And he wore a kingly crown;

35And in his grasp a sceptre shone;

36On his brow this mark I saw—

37 I AM GOD, AND KING, AND LAW!

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38With a pace stately and fast,

39Over English land he passed,

40Trampling to a mire of blood

41The adoring multitude.

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42And a mighty troop around,

43With their trampling shook the ground,

44Waving each a bloody sword,

45For the service of their Lord.

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46And with glorious triumph, they

47Rode through England proud and gay,

48Drunk as with intoxication

49Of the wine of desolation.

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50O’er fields and towns, from sea to sea,

51Passed the Pageant swift and free,

52Tearing up, and trampling down;

53Till they came to London town.

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54And each dweller, panic-stricken,

55Felt his heart with terror sicken

56Hearing the tempestuous cry

57Of the triumph of Anarchy.

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58For with pomp to meet him came,

59Clothed in arms like blood and flame,

60The hired murderers, who did sing

61“Thou art God, and Law, and King.

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62We have waited, weak and lone

63For thy coming, Mighty One!

64Our purses are empty, our swords are cold,

65Give us glory, and blood, and gold.”

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66Lawyers and priests, a motley crowd,

67To the earth their pale brows bowed;

68Like a bad prayer not over loud,

69Whispering — Thou art Law and God. —

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70Then all cried with one accord,

71“Thou art King, and God, and Lord;

72Anarchy, to thee we bow,

73Be thy name made holy now!”

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74And Anarchy, the Skeleton,

75Bowed and grinned to every one,

76As well as if his education

77Had cost ten millions to the nation.

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78For he knew the Palaces

79Of our Kings were rightly his;

80His the sceptre, crown, and globe,

81And the gold-inwoven robe.

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82So he sent his slaves before

83To seize upon the Bank and Tower,

84And was proceeding with intent

85To meet his pensioned Parliament

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86When one fled past, a maniac maid,

87And her name was Hope, she said:

88But she looked more like Despair,

89And she cried out in the air:

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90“My father Time is weak and gray

91With waiting for a better day;

92See how idiot-like he stands,

93Fumbling with his palsied hands!

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94“He has had child after child,

95And the dust of death is piled

96Over every one but me—

97Misery, oh, Misery!”

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98Then she lay down in the street,

99Right before the horses’ feet,

100Expecting, with a patient eye,

101Murder, Fraud, and Anarchy.

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102When between her and her foes

103A mist, a light, an image rose,

104Small at first, and weak, and frail

105Like the vapour of a vale:

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106Till as clouds grow on the blast,

107Like tower-crowned giants striding fast,

108And glare with lightnings as they fly,

109And speak in thunder to the sky,

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110It grew — a Shape arrayed in mail

111Brighter than the viper’s scale,

112And upborne on wings whose grain

113Was as the light of sunny rain.

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114On its helm, seen far away,

115A planet, like the Morning’s, lay;

116And those plumes its light rained through

117Like a shower of crimson dew.

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118With step as soft as wind it passed

119O’er the heads of men — so fast

120That they knew the presence there,

121And looked, — but all was empty air.

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122As flowers beneath May’s footstep waken,

123As stars from Night’s loose hair are shaken,

124As waves arise when loud winds call,

125Thoughts sprung where’er that step did fall.

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126And the prostrate multitude

127Looked — and ankle-deep in blood,

128Hope, that maiden most serene,

129Was walking with a quiet mien:

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130And Anarchy, the ghastly birth,

131Lay dead earth upon the earth;

132The Horse of Death tameless as wind

133Fled, and with his hoofs did grind

134To dust the murderers thronged behind.

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135A rushing light of clouds and splendour,

136A sense awakening and yet tender

137Was heard and felt — and at its close

138These words of joy and fear arose

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139As if their own indignant Earth

140Which gave the sons of England birth

141Had felt their blood upon her brow,

142And shuddering with a mother’s throe

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143Had turnè;d every drop of blood

144By which her face had been bedewed

145To an accent unwithstood,—

146As if her heart had cried aloud:

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147“Men of England, heirs of Glory,

148Heroes of unwritten story,

149Nurslings of one mighty Mother,

150Hopes of her, and one another;

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151“Rise like Lions after slumber

152In unvanquishable number,

153Shake your chains to earth like dew

154Which in sleep had fallen on you —

155Ye are many — they are few.

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156“What is Freedom? — ye can tell

157That which slavery is, too well —

158For its very name has grown

159To an echo of your own.

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160“’Tis to work and have such pay

161As just keeps life from day to day

162In your limbs, as in a cell

163For the tyrants’ use to dwell,

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164“So that ye for them are made

165Loom, and plough, and sword, and spade,

166With or without your own will bent

167To their defence and nourishment.

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168“’Tis to see your children weak

169With their mothers pine and peak,

170When the winter winds are bleak,—

171They are dying whilst I speak.

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172“’Tis to hunger for such diet

173As the rich man in his riot

174Casts to the fat dogs that lie

175Surfeiting beneath his eye;

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176“’Tis to let the Ghost of Gold

177Take from Toil a thousandfold

178More than e’er its substance could

179In the tyrannies of old.

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180“Paper coin — that forgery

181Of the title-deeds, which ye

182Hold to something of the worth

183Of the inheritance of Earth.

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184“’Tis to be a slave in soul

185And to hold no strong control

186Over your own wills, but be

187All that others make of ye.

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188“And at length when ye complain

189With a murmur weak and vain

190’Tis to see the Tyrant’s crew

191Ride over your wives and you—

192Blood is on the grass like dew.

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193“Then it is to feel revenge

194Fiercely thirsting to exchange

195Blood for blood — and wrong for wrong —

196Do not thus when ye are strong.

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197“Birds find rest, in narrow nest

198When weary of their wingè;d quest;

199Beasts find fare, in woody lair

200When storm and snow are in the air,1The following stanza is found in the Wise MS and in Mary Shelley's edition of 1839, but is wanting in the Hunt MS and  in the first edition of 1832: “Horses, oxen, have a home, When from daily toil they come; Household dogs, when the wind roars,  Find a home within warm doors.”

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201“Asses, swine, have litter spread

202And with fitting food are fed;

203All things have a home but one—

204Thou, Oh, Englishman, hast none!

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205“This is Slavery — savage men,

206Or wild beasts within a den

207Would endure not as ye do—

208But such ills they never knew.

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209“What art thou Freedom? O! could slaves

210Answer from their living graves

211This demand — tyrants would flee

212Like a dream’s dim imagery:

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213“Thou art not, as impostors say,

214A shadow soon to pass away,

215A superstition, and a name

216Echoing from the cave of Fame.

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217“For the labourer thou art bread,

218And a comely table spread

219From his daily labour come

220In a neat and happy home.

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221“Thou art clothes, and fire, and food

222For the trampled multitude—

223No — in countries that are free

224Such starvation cannot be

225As in England now we see.

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226“To the rich thou art a check,

227When his foot is on the neck

228Of his victim, thou dost make

229That he treads upon a snake.

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230“Thou art Justice — ne’er for gold

231May thy righteous laws be sold

232As laws are in England — thou

233Shield’st alike the high and low.

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234“Thou art Wisdom — Freemen never

235Dream that God will damn for ever

236All who think those things untrue

237Of which Priests make such ado.

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238“Thou art Peace — never by thee

239Would blood and treasure wasted be

240As tyrants wasted them, when all

241Leagued to quench thy flame in Gaul.

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242“What if English toil and blood

243Was poured forth, even as a flood?

244It availed, Oh, Liberty,

245To dim, but not extinguish thee.

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246“Thou art Love — the rich have kissed

247Thy feet, and like him following Christ,

248Give their substance to the free

249And through the rough world follow thee,

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250“Or turn their wealth to arms, and make

251War for thy belovè;d sake

252On wealth, and war, and fraud—whence they

253 Drew the power which is their prey.

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254“Science, Poetry, and Thought

255Are thy lamps; they make the lot

256Of the dwellers in a cot

257So serene, they curse it not.

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258“Spirit, Patience, Gentleness,

259All that can adorn and bless

260Art thou — let deeds, not words, express

261Thine exceeding loveliness.

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262“Let a great Assembly be

263Of the fearless and the free

264On some spot of English ground

265Where the plains stretch wide around.

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266“Let the blue sky overhead,

267The green earth on which ye tread,

268All that must eternal be

269Witness the solemnity.

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270“From the corners uttermost

271Of the bonds of English coast;

272From every hut, village, and town

273Where those who live and suffer moan

274For others’ misery or their own.2The following stanza is found (cancelled) at this  place in the Wise MS.: “From the cities where from caves, Like the dead from putrid graves, Troops of starvelings gliding come, Living Tenants of a tomb.”

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275“From the workhouse and the prison

276Where pale as corpses newly risen,

277Women, children, young and old

278Groan for pain, and weep for cold—

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279“From the haunts of daily life

280Where is waged the daily strife

281With common wants and common cares

282Which sows the human heart with tares—

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283“Lastly from the palaces

284Where the murmur of distress

285Echoes, like the distant sound

286Of a wind alive around

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287“Those prison halls of wealth and fashion,

288Where some few feel such compassion

289For those who groan, and toil, and wail

290As must make their brethren pale—

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291“Ye who suffer woes untold,

292Or to feel, or to behold

293Your lost country bought and sold

294With a price of blood and gold—

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295“Let a vast assembly be,

296And with great solemnity

297Declare with measured words that ye

298Are, as God has made ye, free—

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299“Be your strong and simple words

300Keen to wound as sharpened swords,

301And wide as targes let them be,

302With their shade to cover ye.

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303“Let the tyrants pour around

304With a quick and startling sound,

305Like the loosening of a sea,

306Troops of armed emblazonry.

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307“Let the charged artillery drive

308Till the dead air seems alive

309With the clash of clanging wheels,

310And the tramp of horses’ heels.

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311“Let the fixè;d bayonet

312Gleam with sharp desire to wet

313Its bright point in English blood

314Looking keen as one for food.

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315“Let the horsemen’s scimitars

316Wheel and flash, like sphereless stars

317Thirsting to eclipse their burning

318In a sea of death and mourning.

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319“Stand ye calm and resolute,

320Like a forest close and mute,

321With folded arms and looks which are

322Weapons of unvanquished war,

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323“And let Panic, who outspeeds

324The career of armè;d steeds

325Pass, a disregarded shade

326Through your phalanx undismayed.

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327“Let the laws of your own land,

328Good or ill, between ye stand

329Hand to hand, and foot to foot,

330Arbiters of the dispute,

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331“The old laws of England — they

332Whose reverend heads with age are gray,

333Children of a wiser day;

334And whose solemn voice must be

335Thine own echo — Liberty!

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336“On those who first should violate

337Such sacred heralds in their state

338Rest the blood that must ensue,

339And it will not rest on you.

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340“And if then the tyrants dare

341Let them ride among you there,

342Slash, and stab, and maim, and hew,—

343What they like, that let them do.

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344“With folded arms and steady eyes,

345And little fear, and less surprise,

346Look upon them as they slay

347Till their rage has died away.

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348“Then they will return with shame

349To the place from which they came,

350And the blood thus shed will speak

351In hot blushes on their cheek.

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352 “Every woman in the land

353Will point at them as they stand—

354They will hardly dare to greet

355Their acquaintance in the street.

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356“And the bold, true warriors

357Who have hugged Danger in wars

358Will turn to those who would be free,

359Ashamed of such base company.

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360“And that slaughter to the Nation

361Shall steam up like inspiration,

362Eloquent, oracular;

363A volcano heard afar.

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364“And these words shall then become

365Like Oppression’s thundered doom

366Ringing through each heart and brain,

367Heard again — again — again—

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368“Rise like Lions after slumber

369In unvanquishable number—

370Shake your chains to earth like dew

371Which in sleep had fallen on you—

372Ye are many — they are few.”

The Mask of Anarchy:

Written on the Occasion of the Massacre at Manchester

Percy Bysshe Shelley