The Warwickshire Herald. — 1887-05-05 (Birmingham, West Midlands, England)

THE QUESTION.-1887.  THE Daily Telegraph, on Friday, published the following poem, by Mr. Swinburne, denouncing the attitude taken up by Mr. Gladstone in reference to the bill for the repression of crime in Ireland : Shall England consummate the crime That binds the murderer's hand, and leaves No surety for the trust of thieves? Time pleads against it—truth and time— And pity fro ,s ns and grieves. The hoary henchman of the gang Lifts hands that never dew nor rain May cleanse from Gordon's blood again, Appealing : pity's tenderest pang • Thrills his pure heart with pain. Grand helmsman of the clamorous crew, The good grey recreant quakes and weeps To think that crime no longer creeps Safe toward its end: that murderers too  May die when mercy sleeps. While all the lives were innocent That slaughter drank, and laughed with rage, Bland virtue sighed, "A former age Taught murder: souls long discontent Can aught save blood assuage? "You Name not Russian hands that smite  By fierce and secret ways the power That leaves not life one chainless hour ; Have these than they less natural right To claim life's natural dower? " The dower that freedom brings the slave She weds, is vengeance; why should we, Whcm equal laws acclaim as free, Think shame, if men too blindly brave Steal, murder, skulk, and flee? "At Kings they strike in Russia: there Men take their life in hand who slay Kings: these, that have not heart to lay Hand save on girls whose ravaged hair Is made the patriot's prey. "These, whom the sight of old men slain Makes bold to bid their children die,  starved, if they hold not peace, nor 'lie, Claim loftier praise: could others deign To stand in shame so high? "Could others deign to dare such deeds As holiest Ireland hallows? Nay, But juatice then makes plain our way: Be laws burnt up like burning weeds That vex the face of day. " Shall bloodmongers be held of us Blood-guilty? Hands reached out for gold Whereon blood rusts not yet, we hold Bloodless and blameless: ever thus  Have good men held of old. "Fair Freedom, fledged and leaped with lies, Takes Mg& by night where murder lurks, And broods on murderous ways and works, Yet seems not hideous in our eyes  As Austrians or as Turks. "Be it ours to undo a woful past To bid the bells of concord chime  , To break the bonds of suffering crime, Slack now, that some would make more fast:  Such teaching cornea of time." So pleads the gentlest heart that lives, Whose pity, pitiless for all Whom darkling terror holds in thrall, Towards none save miscreants yearns, and gives  Alms of warm tears—and gall. Hear, England, and obey: for he Who claims thy trust again to-day Is he who left thy sons a prey To shame whence only death sets free: Hear, England, and obey. Thy spoils be gave to deck the Dutch; Thy noblest pride, most pure, most brave, To death forlorn and sure he gave ; Nor now requires he overmuch Who bids thee dig thy grave. Dig deep the grave of shame, wherein Thy fame, thy commonweal, must lie; Put thought of aught save terror by ; To strike and slay the slayer is sin ; And murder must not die. Bind fast the true man; loose the thief; Shamed were the land, the laws accursed, Were guilt, not innocence, amerced ; And dark the wrong and sore the grief,  , Were tyrants too coerced. The fiercest cowards that ever skulked, The cowardliest hounds that ever lapped Blood, if their horde be tracked and trapped, And justice claim their lives for mulct, Gnash teeth that flashed and en pped. Bow down for fear, then, England : bow, Lest worse befall thee yet; and swear That nought save pity, conscience, care For truth and mercy, moves thee now  To call foul falsehood fair. So shalt thou live in shame, and hear_  The lips of all men laugh thee dead ; The wild world's mockery round thy head Shriek like a storm-wind; and a bier Shall be thine honour's bed.