Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). Verse: 1885–1918. 1922.
The Old Issue
(Outbreak of Boer War)
“H
“Many feet have worn it and the road is old indeed.
“It is the King—the King we schooled aforetime!”
(Trumpets in the marshes—in the eyot at Runnymede!)
“Pardon for his penitence or pity for his fall.
“It is the King!”—inexorable Trumpets—
(Trumpets round the scaffold at the dawning by Whitehall!)
“He hath veiled the Crown and hid the Sceptre,” warn the Trumpets,
“He hath changed the fashion of the lies that cloak his will.
“Hard die the Kings—ah hard—dooms hard!” declare the Trumpets,
Trumpets at the gang-plank where the brawling troop-decks fill!
Once again the Trumpets, for the shuddering ground-swell brings
Clamour over ocean of the harsh, pursuing Trumpets—
Trumpets of the Vanguard that have sworn no truce with Kings!
This our fathers bought for us long and long ago.
Leave to live by no man’s leave, underneath the Law.
Wrenched it, inch and ell and all, slowly from the King.
How our King is one with us, first among his peers.
Wherefore must we watch the King, lest our gain be lost.
Suffer not the old King: for we know the breed.
Whining “He is weak and far”; crying “Time shall cure.”
Deeper strikes the rottenness in the people’s loins.)
Suffer not the old King here or overseas.
Pledge the years we hold in trust—pawn our brother’s blood—
Suffer not the old King under any name!
It is written what shall fall if the King return.
Set his guards about us, as in Freedom’s name.
He shall change our gold for arms—arms we may not bear.
He shall rule above the Law calling on the Lord.
Watchers ’neath our window, lest we mock the King—
Money poured in secret, carrion breeding flies.
These shall deal our Justice: sell—deny—delay.
For the Land we look to—for the Tongue we use.
While his hired captains jeer us in the street.
Far beyond his borders shall his teachings run.
Laying on a new land evil of the old—
All our fathers died to loose he shall bind again.
Swings the wheel full-circle, brims the cup anew.
Step for step and word for word—so the old Kings did!
Suffer not the old Kings: for we know the breed—
Stewards of the Judgment, suffer not this King!