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THE OLD ISSUE
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Lance and torch and tumult, steel and grey-goose wing
Wrenched it, inch and ell and all, slowly from the King.
Till our fathers 'stablished, after bloody years,
How our King is one with us, first among his peers.
So they bought us freedom—not at little cost—
Wherefore must we watch the King, lest our gain be lost.
Over all things certain, this is sure indeed,
Suffer not the old King: for we know the breed.
Give no ear to bondsmen bidding us endure,
Whining "He is weak and far"; crying "Time shall cure."
(Time himself is witness, till the battle joins,
Deeper strikes the rottenness in the people's loins.)
