570
POEMS WRITTEN IN 1819
A NEW NATIONAL ANTHEM
[Published by Mrs. Shelley, P. W., 1839, 2nd ed.]
I
God prosper, speed, and save,
God raise from England's grave
Her murdered Queen!
Pave with swift victory
The steps of Liberty, 5
Whom Britons own to be
Immortal Queen.
God prosper, speed, and save,
God raise from England's grave
Her murdered Queen!
Pave with swift victory
The steps of Liberty, 5
Whom Britons own to be
Immortal Queen.
II
See, she comes throned on high,
On swift Eternity!
God save the Queen! 10
Millions on millions wait,
Firm, rapid, and elate,
On her majestic state!
God save the Queen!
See, she comes throned on high,
On swift Eternity!
God save the Queen! 10
Millions on millions wait,
Firm, rapid, and elate,
On her majestic state!
God save the Queen!
III
She is Thine own pure soul 15
Moulding the mighty whole,—
God save the Queen!
She is Thine own deep love
Rained down from Heaven above,—
Wherever she rest or move, 20
God save our Queen!
She is Thine own pure soul 15
Moulding the mighty whole,—
God save the Queen!
She is Thine own deep love
Rained down from Heaven above,—
Wherever she rest or move, 20
God save our Queen!
IV
'Wilder her enemies
In their own dark disguise,—
God save our Queen!
All earthly things that dare 25
Her sacred name to bear,
Strip them, as kings are, bare;
God save the Queen!
'Wilder her enemies
In their own dark disguise,—
God save our Queen!
All earthly things that dare 25
Her sacred name to bear,
Strip them, as kings are, bare;
God save the Queen!
V
Be her eternal throne
Built in our hearts alone— 30
God save the Queen!
Let the oppressor hold
Canopied seats of gold:
She sits enthroned of old
O'er our hearts Queen. 35
Be her eternal throne
Built in our hearts alone— 30
God save the Queen!
Let the oppressor hold
Canopied seats of gold:
She sits enthroned of old
O'er our hearts Queen. 35
VI
Lips touched by seraphim
Breathe out the choral hymn
'God save the Queen!'
Sweet as if angels sang,
Loud as that trumpet's clang 40
Wakening the world's dead gang,—
God save the Queen!
Lips touched by seraphim
Breathe out the choral hymn
'God save the Queen!'
Sweet as if angels sang,
Loud as that trumpet's clang 40
Wakening the world's dead gang,—
God save the Queen!
SONNET: ENGLAND IN 1819
[Published by Mrs. Shelley, P. W., 1839, 1st ed.]
An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,—
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow
Through public scorn,—mud from a muddy spring,—
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
But leech-like to their fainting country cling, 5
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,—
A people starved and stabbed in the unfilled field,—
An army, which liberticide and prey
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,—
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay; 10
Religion Christless, Godless—a book sealed;
A Senate,—Time's worst statute unrepealed,—
Are graves, from which a glorious Phantom may
Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day.
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow
Through public scorn,—mud from a muddy spring,—
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
But leech-like to their fainting country cling, 5
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,—
A people starved and stabbed in the unfilled field,—
An army, which liberticide and prey
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,—
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay; 10
Religion Christless, Godless—a book sealed;
A Senate,—Time's worst statute unrepealed,—
Are graves, from which a glorious Phantom may
Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day.
