INDIA AND THE BOERS.

The Boers are a sober, industrious and most hospitable body of peasantry.—Dr. Livingstone.

You heard that song of the Jubilee!Ten thousand cannon took up the song,Ten million people came out to see,A surging, eager and anxious throng.And the great were glad as glad could be;Glad at Windsor, glad at Saint James,Glad of glory and of storied names,Generals, lords and gentlemen,Such as we never may see again,And ten thousand banners aflying!But up the Thames and down the ThamesBare, hungered babes lay crying,Poor, homeless men sat sighing;And far away, in fair Cathay,An Eden land but yesterday,Lay millions, starving, dying.Prone India! All her storied gems—Those stolen gems that decked the CrownAnd glittered in those garment-hems,That Jubilee in London town—Were not, and all her walls were down,Her plowshare eaten up with rust,Her peaceful people prone in dust,Her wells gone dry and drying.You ask how came these things to be?I turn you straight to historie;To generals, lords and gentlemenWho cut the dykes, blew down the wallsAnd plowed the land with cannon-balls,Then sacked the ruined land and then—Great London and the Jubilee,With lying banners aflying.Eight millions starved to death! You hear?[B]You heard the song of that Jubilee,And you might have heard, had you given ear,My generals, lords and gentlemen,From where the Ganges seeks the sea,Such wails between the notes, I fear,As you never had cared to hear again.The dead heaped down in the dried-up wells,The dead, like corn, in the fertile fieldsYou had plowed and crossed with your cannon wheels,The dead in towns that were burning hellsBecause the water was under your heels!They thirsted! You drank at the Jubilee,My generals, lords and gentlemen,Drank as you hardly may come to whenThe final account of your deeds may be.Eight millions starved! Yet the Jubilee—Why, never such glory since Solomon’s throne.The world was glad that it came to see,And the Saxon said, “Lo, the world is mine own!”But mark you! That glittering great Crown stone,And the thousand stars that dimmed in this sun,Were stolen, were stolen every one,Were stolen from those who starved and died!Brave Boers, grim Boers, look to your guns!They want your diamonds, these younger ones—Young generals, lords and gentlemen—Robbers to-day as they were robbers then.Look to your guns! for a child can see(Can your children see now for crying?)That they want your gems! Ah, that Jubilee,With those lying banners aflying!

You heard that song of the Jubilee!

Ten thousand cannon took up the song,

Ten million people came out to see,

A surging, eager and anxious throng.

And the great were glad as glad could be;

Glad at Windsor, glad at Saint James,

Glad of glory and of storied names,

Generals, lords and gentlemen,

Such as we never may see again,

And ten thousand banners aflying!

But up the Thames and down the Thames

Bare, hungered babes lay crying,

Poor, homeless men sat sighing;

And far away, in fair Cathay,

An Eden land but yesterday,

Lay millions, starving, dying.

Prone India! All her storied gems—Those stolen gems that decked the CrownAnd glittered in those garment-hems,That Jubilee in London town—Were not, and all her walls were down,Her plowshare eaten up with rust,Her peaceful people prone in dust,Her wells gone dry and drying.You ask how came these things to be?I turn you straight to historie;To generals, lords and gentlemenWho cut the dykes, blew down the wallsAnd plowed the land with cannon-balls,Then sacked the ruined land and then—Great London and the Jubilee,With lying banners aflying.

Prone India! All her storied gems—

Those stolen gems that decked the Crown

And glittered in those garment-hems,

That Jubilee in London town—

Were not, and all her walls were down,

Her plowshare eaten up with rust,

Her peaceful people prone in dust,

Her wells gone dry and drying.

You ask how came these things to be?

I turn you straight to historie;

To generals, lords and gentlemen

Who cut the dykes, blew down the walls

And plowed the land with cannon-balls,

Then sacked the ruined land and then—

Great London and the Jubilee,

With lying banners aflying.

Eight millions starved to death! You hear?[B]You heard the song of that Jubilee,And you might have heard, had you given ear,My generals, lords and gentlemen,From where the Ganges seeks the sea,Such wails between the notes, I fear,As you never had cared to hear again.The dead heaped down in the dried-up wells,The dead, like corn, in the fertile fieldsYou had plowed and crossed with your cannon wheels,The dead in towns that were burning hellsBecause the water was under your heels!They thirsted! You drank at the Jubilee,My generals, lords and gentlemen,Drank as you hardly may come to whenThe final account of your deeds may be.

Eight millions starved to death! You hear?[B]

You heard the song of that Jubilee,

And you might have heard, had you given ear,

My generals, lords and gentlemen,

From where the Ganges seeks the sea,

Such wails between the notes, I fear,

As you never had cared to hear again.

The dead heaped down in the dried-up wells,

The dead, like corn, in the fertile fields

You had plowed and crossed with your cannon wheels,

The dead in towns that were burning hells

Because the water was under your heels!

They thirsted! You drank at the Jubilee,

My generals, lords and gentlemen,

Drank as you hardly may come to when

The final account of your deeds may be.

Eight millions starved! Yet the Jubilee—Why, never such glory since Solomon’s throne.The world was glad that it came to see,And the Saxon said, “Lo, the world is mine own!”But mark you! That glittering great Crown stone,And the thousand stars that dimmed in this sun,Were stolen, were stolen every one,Were stolen from those who starved and died!

Eight millions starved! Yet the Jubilee—

Why, never such glory since Solomon’s throne.

The world was glad that it came to see,

And the Saxon said, “Lo, the world is mine own!”

But mark you! That glittering great Crown stone,

And the thousand stars that dimmed in this sun,

Were stolen, were stolen every one,

Were stolen from those who starved and died!

Brave Boers, grim Boers, look to your guns!They want your diamonds, these younger ones—Young generals, lords and gentlemen—Robbers to-day as they were robbers then.Look to your guns! for a child can see(Can your children see now for crying?)That they want your gems! Ah, that Jubilee,With those lying banners aflying!

Brave Boers, grim Boers, look to your guns!

They want your diamonds, these younger ones—

Young generals, lords and gentlemen—

Robbers to-day as they were robbers then.

Look to your guns! for a child can see

(Can your children see now for crying?)

That they want your gems! Ah, that Jubilee,

With those lying banners aflying!

[B]See report of Julian Hawthorne, sent by a New York magazine to photograph and give details of the starving in India, about the time of the Jubilee. He does not give these figures, but his facts and photographs warrant a fearful estimate. As for the subjugation of India and the wanton destruction, not only of life, but the very means of life, this is history. And now, again, is despoiled India starving,—starving, dying of hunger as before; even more fearfully, even while England is trying to despoil the Boers. And when her speculators and politicians have beaten them and despoiled them of their gold and diamonds and herds, what then? Why, leave them to starve as in India, or struggle on in the wilderness as best they can.

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