Thurland Press

"Whiles drew his foes away
And stared across the corpses that before his sword-edge lay.
But nought he followed after: then needs must they in front
Thrust on by the thickening spear-throng come up to bear the brunt,
Till all his limbs were weary and his body rent and torn:
Then he cried: "Lo, now, Allfather, is not the swathe well shorn?
Wouldst thou have me toil for ever, nor win wages due?"
And mid the hedge of foemen his blunted sword he threw,
And, laid like the oars of a longship the level war-shafts pressed
On 'gainst the unshielded elder, and clashed amidst his breast.
And dead he fell, thrust backward, and rang on the dead man's gear:
But still for a certain season durst no man draw anear.
For 'twas e'en as a great God's slaying, and they feared the wrath of the sky;
And they deemed their hearts might harden if awhile they let him lie.
Lo, the plotting was long, so short the tale to tell
How a mighty people's leaders in the field of murder fell.
For but feebly burned the battle when Volsung fell to field,
And all who who were yet living were borne down before the shield:
So sinketh the din and the tumult; and the earls of the Goths ring round
That crown of the Kings of battle laid low upon the ground."

To better understand those that our wizened rulers wish to bring into our borders, one only need to look into history, and the rude blight this brings unto the present. Atrocities of the most revolting description are of a daily, hourly occurrences, not only in Turkey and Siam, but in New York and Chicago; not only in China and India, but in London, Madrid, and Paris; not only in Mashonaland and on the Congo, but in St. Petersburg and Berlin.

Herodotus describes Asian feasts where man's flesh was the chief dish, and down to the Thirteenth Century the Tibetans were in the habit of making their parents into broth. There are confraternities still in existence into which no one is ever admitted until he has first killed a man. Among the Dyaks, a youth is never considered a full-adult, capable of founding a home, until he has slain at least one enemy in battle. The Thugs of India brought the science of holy murder. The Kinderawas, of India, make a regular practice of eating all their diseased, useless, senile, and decrepit relations, just as packs of wolves fall upon any of their number that is seriously wounded in foray.

In portions of Sumatra law-breakers neither imprisoned nor electrocuted, but actually carved up and eaten alive—piece by piece. The Canpanagugas of South America make their own stomachs the sepulchre of their dead relatives. A funeral with them is a banquet, the collation being a corpse. The Terra Del Fuegans throttle and eat all very old women. The Monbuttas of Central Africa carry on aggressive wars to capture flesh food. They also dry human flitches in the sun and smoke them for export. During the Tae Ping rebellion Chinese soldiers (under General Gordon) were in the habit of cutting out and devouring the hearts of their dead enemies (on the battle-field), like the Maoris, or some Redskin tribes. The presence of Anthropophagi, in any capacity, is a direct consequence of assuming these peoples have any moral agency, that is compatible with Western morality.

"The life of Man upon the earth is a warfare,"—Job 7:1.

"The law immutable, indestructible, eternal; not like those of today and yesterday, but made ere time began."—Sophocles

No matter how the fools attempt to claw in their hoary, ill-conceived precepts, they shall never make the comfort-slave a hero—you cannot breed both an empty-headed hireling and a Justinian or a Caesar.

Although all may be made of clay in the poetic sense, it must never be forgotten that the clay itself is composed of differentiated elements. The clay that is in a negro or a Chinaman is not the clay that is in a Shakespeare or a Bismarck. Some "clay" will grow good wheat and make very bad bricks, just as some breeds of animals are born to be hunters and others born to be hunted. Some clay will raise splendid crops, even from poor seed, and some never produces anything (no matter how highly cultivated) except thorns and weeds and nettles and poisons. The natures of men are moulded almost entirely by the nature of the soil from which they are grown. Man is a perambulating crop. In some places he grows to perfection: in other localities he won't grow at all, or runs to seed. In India there are only a sea of noxious weeds, but within the Anglo-Saxon pioneer strain there develops increased stamina; a greater spiritual, physical, and mental hygiene—outside the great cities.

"I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet." —Jack London

The Robbers of Today

In the time of Rome Imperator—in the age of Charlemagne,
In the days of Hun and Vandal, and the swoop of Tamerlane—
Men risked their bones for booty in the battle's bloody fray;
Not so the chartered robbers who rob the world today.

The miner pays them tribute, and the farmer's "home" is theirs;
They coin OUR coal and iron and OUR silver into "shares."
The wool fleets northward sailing—the wine and grain and hay,
Belong, without exception, to the robbers of today.

The widow, starving slowly, and the child that feeds on crusts,
Are melted down to dividends by vast financial trusts.
O, cruel were Pizarro's hordes who marched to loot and slay;
More ruthless far the mortgage wolves—the robbers of today.

Their stronghold's in the city's heart (no "castles by the Rhine");
Their throne's a marble counting house—where brassy doorplates shine;
Their swords are acts of Congress and Judges in array—
O, mighty are the mortgage kings, that rule the world today!

When the kindly Roman emperor imagined that peace had settled down permanently upon the ancient world, even then the (dissimulating) assassin's dagger was sharpening for his throat; and now while lower organisms dream of a "world of lovers," of arbitration instead of hostility, of conciliation between rival carnivores, the mechanism of deletion is silently under construction; that, when completed, will sweep them from the face of the earth.

"Good blade! Mighty overcomer! Trusty friend! I salute thee! Verily thou are my saviour, my deliverer, my Iron Redeemer! Glorious steel, ruler of earth and ocean, thou wast never a backbiter yet! In the hour of need thou didst not desert me!"

What gods hast thou, that bow before the might of mortal men?
Surrendered now in ignorance; enslaved before the pen
Of magistrates and potentates less powerful than thee—
What makers vested strength within the legs that bend the knee?
What then of their countenance, their handiwork to see?
Cry out! Cry out unto them and witness unto me!

What chains and shackles hobble thee, what burden giveth pause?
What fearsome power maketh thee unworthy of thy cause?
What of the faith and principles thou surely must despise,
To supplicate in deference before a throne of lies?

Count for me the years before the soul of freedom dies.
Art thou now a servant and a slave in thine own eyes?
What fools are we, who in false grace before accusers bowed
And in our hubris and our haste their tyranny allowed.