What men gain fairly--that they should possess, And children may inherit idleness, From him who earns it--This is understood; Private injustice may be general good. But he who gains by base and armed wrong, _5 Or guilty fraud, or base compliances, May be despoiled; even as a stolen dress Is stripped from a convicted thief; and he Left in the nakedness of infamy. *** A NEW NATIONAL ANTHEM. [Published by Mrs. Shelley, "Poetical Works", 1839, 2nd edition.] 1. 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. 2. 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! 3. 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! 4. '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! 5. 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 6. 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, "Poetical Works", 1839, 1st edition.] 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 untilled 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. *** AN ODE, WRITTEN OCTOBER, 1819, BEFORE THE SPANIARDS HAD RECOVERED THEIR LIBERTY. [Published with "Prometheus Unbound", 1820.]