Home ยป A little trial

They arrested them high.
Then chained them low.
Thence called them a free people.

‘Las they bring them to the front,
Last their will was kept,
Lest it was long be gone.

But long is it their words sanctioned,
Ought not for one to breathe,
Not the words they be found.

Deemed a worthy taste to try,
Seemed little to vain in attempt ere
Heed the advice that once was.

Though speaks still through a noise,
Through some word or two calms,
No voice sounded to contradict.

Utters the argument thus be heard,
Stutters a little but continues slow,
Mutters the last erelong is much be done.

By wigs their acts and words pronounced,
Lie they through masks the blindness hath made,
Why then the defeated is that they rouse?

So long after so, so many years,
Low now is a soul drained of all dignity and respect,
No tears and anguish can wash a wound away.

Accounts from past now heard,
Recounts a betrayal from one small friend,
Discounts the heathen acts against.

This they knew of such a word,
His being that false so perverse,
Is thus the form their justice served.

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