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George Meredith - The Old Chartist
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I 

Whate`er I be, old England is my dam! 
So there`s my answer to the judges, clear. 
I`m nothing of a fox, nor of a lamb; 
I don`t know how to bleat nor how to leer: 
I`m for the nation! 
That`s why you see me by the wayside here, 
Returning home from transportation. 

         II 

It`s Summer in her bath this morn, I think. 
I`m fresh as dew, and chirpy as the birds: 
And just for joy to see old England wink 
Thro` leaves again, I could harangue the herds: 
Isn`t it something 
To speak out like a man when you`ve got words, 
And prove you`re not a stupid dumb thing? 

         III 

They shipp`d me of for it; I`m here again. 
Old England is my dam, whate`er I be! 
Says I, I`ll tramp it home, and see the grain: 
If you see well, you`re king of what you see: 
Eyesight is having, 
If you`re not given, I said, to gluttony. 
Such talk to ignorance sounds as raving. 

         IV 

You dear old brook, that from his Grace`s park 
Come bounding! on you run near my old town: 
My lord can`t lock the water; nor the lark, 
Unless he kills him, can my lord keep down. 
Up, is the song-note! 
I`ve tried it, too:- for comfort and renown, 
I rather pitch`d upon the wrong note. 

         V 

I`m not ashamed: Not beaten`s still my boast: 
Again I`ll rouse the people up to strike. 
But home`s where different politics jar most. 
Respectability the women like. 
This form, or that form, - 
The Government may be hungry pike, 
But don`t you mount a Chartist platform! 

         VI 

Well, well! Not beaten—spite of them, I shout; 
And my estate is suffering for the Cause. - 
No,—what is yon brown water-rat about, 
Who washes his old poll with busy paws? 
What does he mean by`t? 
It`s like defying all our natural laws, 
For him to hope that he`ll get clean by`t. 

         VII 

His seat is on a mud-bank, and his trade 
Is dirt:- he`s quite contemptible; and yet 
The fellow`s all as anxious as a maid 
To show a decent dress, and dry the wet. 
Now it`s his whisker, 
And now his nose, and ear: he seems to get 
Each moment at the motion brisker! 

         VIII 

To see him squat like little chaps at school, 
I could let fly a laugh with all my might. 
He peers, hangs both his fore-paws:- bless that fool, 
He`s bobbing at his frill now!—what a sight! 
Licking the dish up, 
As if he thought to pass from black to white, 
Like parson into lawny bishop. 

         IX 

The elms and yellow reed-flags in the sun, 
Look on quite grave:- the sunlight flecks his side; 
And links of bindweed-flowers round him run, 
And shine up doubled with him in the tide. 
I`M nearly splitting, 
But nature seems like seconding his pride, 
And thinks that his behaviour`s fitting. 

         X 

That isle o` mud looks baking dry with gold. 
His needle-muzzle still works out and in. 
It really is a wonder to behold, 
And makes me feel the bristles of my chin. 
Judged by appearance, 
I fancy of the two I`m nearer Sin, 
And might as well commence a clearance. 

         XI 

And that`s what my fine daughter said:- she meant: 
Pray, hold your tongue, and wear a Sunday face. 
Her husband, the young linendraper, spent 
Much argument thereon:- I`m their disgrace. 
Bother the couple! 
I feel superior to a chap whose place 
Commands him to be neat and supple. 

         XII 

But if I go and say to my old hen: 
I`ll mend the gentry`s boots, and keep discreet, 
Until they grow TOO violent,—why, then, 
A warmer welcome I might chance to meet: 
Warmer and better. 
And if she fancies her old cock is beat, 
And drops upon her knees—so let her! 

         XIII 

She suffered for me:- women, you`ll observe, 
Don`t suffer for a Cause, but for a man. 
When I was in the dock she show`d her nerve: 
I saw beneath her shawl my old tea-can 
Trembling . . . she brought it 
To screw me for my work: she loath`d my plan, 
And therefore doubly kind I thought it. 

         XIV 

I`ve never lost the taste of that same tea: 
That liquor on my logic floats like oil, 
When I state facts, and fellows disagree. 
For human creatures all are in a coil; 
All may want pardon. 
I see a day when every pot will boil 
Harmonious in one great Tea-garden! 

         XV 

We wait the setting of the Dandy`s day, 
Before that time!—He`s furbishing his dress, - 
He WILL be ready for it!—and I say, 
That yon old dandy rat amid the cress, - 
Thanks to hard labour! - 
If cleanliness is next to godliness, 
The old fat fellow`s heaven`s neighbour! 

         XVI 

You teach me a fine lesson, my old boy! 
I`ve looked on my superiors far too long, 
And small has been my profit as my joy. 
You`ve done the right while I`ve denounced the wrong. 
Prosper me later! 
Like you I will despise the sniggering throng, 
And please myself and my Creator. 

         XVII 

I`ll bring the linendraper and his wife 
Some day to see you; taking off my hat. 
Should they ask why, I`ll answer: in my life 
I never found so true a democrat. 
Base occupation 
Can`t rob you of your own esteem, old rat! 
I`ll preach you to the British nation.
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