Classic Poem

Blessed Empire of Purse and Policeman

When God makes a great Man he intends all others to crush him:
Pharaoh indeed, it is true, didn't put down Moses, but then that
Happened in barbarous times ere Polity rose to perfection
Ere the World had known bankers, and funds, and representation.
Rise up therefore ye Kings, and ye, ye Presidents! bring forth
Bayonet, mortar and bomb, and that patent tool the soldier!
Murder and mangle and waste and establish order. But meantime
Honour to lofty Speech and the Voice of the godlike spirit;
Yea — though journals write and ministers make explanations,
Spite of the able Debats, and the Eloquent Odillon-Barrot,
Honour yet to the Tongue, and the Pen of the Ready Writer,
Honour to speech and great honour to thee, thou noble Mazzini! —
Rise up therefore ye Kings and ye, ye Presidents — Ah, but
What is the use of all this? let me sing the song of the shopman
And my last word be like his: let me shout, with the chorus of journals,
O happy Englishmen we! that so truly can quote from Lucretius
Suave mari magno — how pleasant indeed in a tempest
Safe from the window to watch and behold the great trouble of others.
O blessed government ours, blessed Empire of Purse and Policeman,
Fortunate islands of Order, Utopia of — breeches-pockets,
O happy England, and oh great glory of self-laudation.