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11.
And a mighty troop around,
With their trampling shook the ground,
Waving each a bloody sword,
For the service of their Lord. 45

12.
And with glorious triumph, they
Rode through England proud and gay,
Drunk as with intoxication
Of the wine of desolation.

13.
O’er fields and towns, from sea to sea, 50
Passed the Pageant swift and free,
Tearing up, and trampling down;
Till they came to London town.

14.
And each dweller, panic-stricken,
Felt his heart with terror sicken 55
Hearing the tempestuous cry
Of the triumph of Anarchy.

15.
For with pomp to meet him came,
Clothed in arms like blood and flame,
The hired murderers, who did sing 60
‘Thou art God, and Law, and King.

16.
‘We have waited, weak and lone
For thy coming, Mighty One!
Our purses are empty, our swords are cold,
Give us glory, and blood, and gold.’ 65

17.
Lawyers and priests, a motley crowd,
To the earth their pale brows bowed;
Like a bad prayer not over loud,
Whispering–‘Thou art Law and God.’–

18.
Then all cried with one accord, 70
‘Thou art King, and God, and Lord;
Anarchy, to thee we bow,
Be thy name made holy now!’

19.
And Anarchy, the Skeleton,
Bowed and grinned to every one, 75
As well as if his education
Had cost ten millions to the nation.

20.
For he knew the Palaces
Of our Kings were rightly his;
His the sceptre, crown, and globe, 80
And the gold-inwoven robe.

21.
So he sent his slaves before
To seize upon the Bank and Tower,
And was proceeding with intent
To meet his pensioned Parliament 85

22.
When one fled past, a maniac maid,
And her name was Hope, she said:
But she looked more like Despair,
And she cried out in the air:

23.
‘My father Time is weak and gray 90
With waiting for a better day;
See how idiot-like he stands,
Fumbling with his palsied hands!

24.
‘He has had child after child,
And the dust of death is piled 95
Over every one but me–
Misery, oh, Misery!’

25.
Then she lay down in the street,
Right before the horses’ feet,
Expecting, with a patient eye, 100
Murder, Fraud, and Anarchy.

26.
When between her and her foes
A mist, a light, an image rose,
Small at first, and weak, and frail
Like the vapour of a vale: 105

27.
Till as clouds grow on the blast,
Like tower-crowned giants striding fast,
And glare with lightnings as they fly,
And speak in thunder to the sky,

28.
It grew–a Shape arrayed in mail 110
Brighter than the viper’s scale,
And upborne on wings whose grain
Was as the light of sunny rain.