Джеральд Масси (Gerald Massey)

Our Symbol

FLING out the red Banner! in mountain and valley
    Let Earth feel the tread of the free once again;
Now soldiers of Freedom, for love of God! rally,
    Old earth yearns to know that her children are men.
We are nerv'd by a million wrongs, burning, and
        bleeding;
    Bold thoughts leap to birth,—but the bold deeds
        must come.
And whenever Humanity's yearning and pleading,
    One battle for liberty, strike we heart-home!

Fling out the red Banner! its fiery front under
    Come gather ye, gather ye, champions of Right!
And roll round the world with the voice of God's
        thunder;
    The wrongs we've to reckon—oppressors to smite!
They deem that we strike no more, like the old Hero-
       band,
    Martyrdom's own, battle hearted and brave,
Blood of Christ! Brothers mine, it were sweet but to
        see ye stand
    Triumph or Tomb welcome !   Glory or Grave!

Fling out the red Banner! achievements immortal
    Have yet to be won by the hands labour-brown,
And few, few may enter, the proud promise-portal,
    Yet wear it in thought, boys, the glorious Crown!
Oh, joy of the conflict! storm trumpet! array us;
    True hearts would leap up, were all hell in our path.
Up, up from the slave land; who stirreth to stay us
    Shall fall, as of old, in the red sea of wrath.

Fling out the red Banner !   Oh, sons of the morning,
    Young spirits abiding to burst into wings,
We stand shadow-crown'd; and sublime is the warning,
    All Heaven's grimly husht, and the bird of storm
        sings!
"All's well," saith the sentry on tyranny's tower,
    "Even hope by their watch-fire is grey and tear-blind,"
Aye, all's well, Freedom's altar burns hour by hour,
    Live brands, for the fire-damp, with which ye are
        mined.

Fling out the red Banner! the patriots perish.
    But where their bones whiten, the seed striketh root:
Their heart's-life ran red, the great harvest to cherish.
    Then gather ye, reapers, and garner the fruit.
Victory! victory!   Tyrants are quaking!
    The Titan of Toil from the bloody thrall starts;
The slaves are awaking—the dawnlight is breaking—
    The footfall of Freedom, beats quick at our hearts!

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