Corn-Law Hymn

Lord! call thy pallid angel, The tamer of the strong! And bid him whip with want and woe The champions of the wrong! O, say not thou to ruin’s flood, “Up, sluggard! why so slow?” But alone, let them groan, The lowest of the low; And basely beg the bread they curse, Where millions curse them now! No; wake not thou the giant Who drinks hot blood for wine; And shouts unto the east and west, In thunder-tones like thine; Till the slow to move rush all at once, An avalanche of men, While he raves over waves That need no whirlwind then; Though slow to move, moved all at once, A sea, a sea of men!

Collection: 
English
1801
Ebenezer Elliott
Sub Title: 
Poems of Sentiment: VI. Labor and Rest

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