Howso' great their clamour, whatso'er their claim,
Suffer not the old King under any name!
He shall mark our goings, question whence we came,
Set his guards about us, as in Freedom's name.
Here is naught unproven--here is naught to learn,
It is written what shall fall if the King return.
He shall take a tribute; toll of all our ware;
He shall change our gold for arms--arms we may not bear.
He shall break his Judges if they cross his word;
He shall rule above the Law calling on the Lord.
He shall peep and mutter; and the night shall bring
Watchers 'neath our windows, lest we mock the King--
Hate and all divisions; hosts of hurrying spies;
Money poured in secret; carrion breeding flies.
Strangers of his counsel, hirelings of his pay,
These shall deal our Justice: sell--deny--delay.
-- from the middle of "The Old Issue", by Rudyard Kipling