“Was not their mistake once more bred of the life of slavery that they had been living?—a life which was always looking upon everything, except mankind, animate and inanimate—‘nature,’ as people used to call it—as one thing, and mankind as another, it was natural to people thinking in this way, that they should try to make ‘nature’ their slave, since they thought ‘nature’ was something outside them” — William Morris

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Shelley and the 99%

The Mask of Anarchy was written in the wake of a bloody massacre of protesters in Manchester England in 1819.

I was prevented from having it read on the BBC when I was put in charge of a show of readings by Shelley. Someone intervened and convinced the host that the poem and various related ones (such as the "Ballad of the Starving Mother") were not by Shelley. I kid you not.

I wonder why...not!

So here's the glorious ending, Gandhi loved it, transmitted it to King:

Rise like lions after slumber
In unvanquishable NUMBER!
Shake your chains to earth, like dew
Which in sleep had fall'n on you:

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