A Curse For A Nation
Prologue
I
heard
an
angel
speak
last
night,
And
he
said
"Write!
Write
a
Nation's
curse
for
me,
And
send
it
over
the
Western
Sea."
I
faltered,
taking
up
the
word:
"Not
so,
my
lord!
If
curses
must
be,
choose
another
To
send
thy
curse
against
my
brother.
"For
I
am
bound
by
gratitude,
By
love
and
blood,
To
brothers
of
mine
across
the
sea,
Who
stretch
out
kindly
hands
to
me."
"Therefore,"
the
voice
said,
"shalt
thou
write
My
curse
to-night.
From
the
summits
of
love
a
curse
is
driven,
As
lightning
is
from
the
tops
of
heaven."
"Not
so,"
I
answered.
"Evermore
My
heart
is
sore
For
my
own
land's
sins:
for
little
feet
Of
children
bleeding
along
the
street:
"For
parked-up
honors
that
gainsay
The
right
of
way:
For
almsgiving
through
a
door
that
is
Not
open
enough
for
two
friends
to
kiss:
"For
love
of
freedom
which
abates
Beyond
the
Straits:
For
patriot
virtue
starved
to
vice
on
Self-praise,
self-interest,
and
suspicion:
"For
an
oligarchic
parliament,
And
bribes
well-meant.
What
curse
to
another
land
assign,
When
heavy-souled
for
the
sins
of
mine?"
"Therefore,"
the
voice
said,
"shalt
thou
write
My
curse
to-night.
Because
thou
hast
strength
to
see
and
hate
A
foul
thing
done
within
thy
gate."
"Not
so,"
I
answered
once
again.
"To
curse,
choose
men.
For
I,
a
woman,
have
only
known
How
the
heart
melts
and
the
tears
run
down."
"Therefore,"
the
voice
said,
"shalt
thou
write
My
curse
to-night.
Some
women
weep
and
curse,
I
say
(And
no
one
marvels),
night
and
day.
"And
thou
shalt
take
their
part
to-night,
Weep
and
write.
A
curse
from
the
depths
of
womanhood
Is
very
salt,
and
bitter,
and
good."
So
thus
I
wrote,
and
mourned
indeed,
What
all
may
read.
And
thus,
as
was
enjoined
on
me,
I
send
it
over
the
Western
Sea.
The
Curse
Because
ye
have
broken
your
own
chain
With
the
strain
Of
brave
men
climbing
a
Nation's
height,
Yet
thence
bear
down
with
brand
and
thong
On
souls
of
others,
—
for
this
wrong
This
is
the
curse.
Write.
Because
yourselves
are
standing
straight
In
the
state
Of
Freedom's
foremost
acolyte,
Yet
keep
calm
footing
all
the
time
On
writhing
bond-slaves,
—
for
this
crime
This
is
the
curse.
Write.
Because
ye
prosper
in
God's
name,
With
a
claim
To
honor
in
the
old
world's
sight,
Yet
do
the
fiend's
work
perfectly
In
strangling
martyrs,
—
for
this
lie
This
is
the
curse.
Write.
Ye
shall
watch
while
kings
conspire
Round
the
people's
smouldering
fire,
And,
warm
for
your
part,
Shall
never
dare
—
O
shame!
To
utter
the
thought
into
flame
Which
burns
at
your
heart.
This
is
the
curse.
Write.
Ye
shall
watch
while
nations
strive
With
the
bloodhounds,
die
or
survive,
Drop
faint
from
their
jaws,
Or
throttle
them
backward
to
death;
And
only
under
your
breath
Shall
favor
the
cause.
This
is
the
curse.
Write.
Ye
shall
watch
while
strong
men
draw
The
nets
of
feudal
law
To
strangle
the
weak;
And,
counting
the
sin
for
a
sin,
Your
soul
shall
be
sadder
within
Than
the
word
ye
shall
speak.
This
is
the
curse.
Write.
When
good
men
are
praying
erect
That
Christ
may
avenge
His
elect
And
deliver
the
earth,
The
prayer
in
your
ears,
said
low,
Shall
sound
like
the
tramp
of
a
foe
That's
driving
you
forth.
This
is
the
curse.
Write.
When
wise
men
give
you
their
praise,
They
shall
praise
in
the
heat
of
the
phrase,
As
if
carried
too
far.
When
ye
boast
your
own
charters
kept
true,
Ye
shall
blush;
for
the
thing
which
ye
do
Derides
what
ye
are.
This
is
the
curse.
Write.
When
fools
cast
taunts
at
your
gate,
Your
scorn
ye
shall
somewhat
abate
As
ye
look
o'er
the
wall;
For
your
conscience,
tradition,
and
name
Explode
with
a
deadlier
blame
Than
the
worst
of
them
all.
This
is
the
curse.
Write.
Go,
wherever
ill
deeds
shall
be
done,
Go,
plant
your
flag
in
the
sun
Beside
the
ill-doers!
And
recoil
from
clenching
the
curse
Of
God's
witnessing
Universe
With
a
curse
of
yours.
This
is
the
curse.
Write.
