The Legend of Ulenspiegel by Charles de Coster Book IV Chapter 2

In the first days of May, under a clear sky, with the ship sailing proudly along the sea, Ulenspiegel sang:
“The ashes beat upon my heart.The butchers are come; they have struckWith poignard, fire, violence, the sword.They have paid for foulest spying.Where once were Love and Faith, mild virtues,They have set Denunciation and Mistrust.May the butchers be smitten,Beat the drum of war.“Long live the Beggar! Beat upon the drum!Briele is taken,Flessingue, too, the key of the Scheldt;God is good, Camp-Veere is taken,Where Zealand kept her artillery!We have bullets, powder, and shot,Iron shot and leaden shot.God is with us, who then is against?“Beat upon the drum of war and glory!Long live the Beggar! Beat upon the drum!“The sword is drawn, be our hearts high,Firm be our arms, the sword is drawn.Out upon the tenth tithe, the whole of ruin,Death to the butcher, halter to the spoiler,For a perjured king a rebel folk.The sword is drawn for our rights,For our houses, our wives, and our children.The sword is drawn, beat upon the drum!“High are our hearts, stout are our arms.Out upon the tenth tithe, out upon the infamous pardon.Beat upon the drum of war, beat upon the drum!”“Aye, good fellows and friends,” said Ulenspiegel; “aye, they have set up at Antwerp, before the Townhall, a dazzling scaffold covered with red cloth; the duke is seated upon it like a king upon his throne in the midst of liverymen and soldiers. Meaning to smile benevolently, he makes a sour grimace. Beat upon the war drum!
“He hath accorded a pardon, make silence, his gilded cuirass shines in the sun; the grand provost is on horseback beside the dais; lo here cometh the herald with his kettle-drums; he reads; it is a pardon for all those that have not sinned; the others will be punished cruelly.
“Oyez, good fellows, he reads the edict that orders, on penalty as for rebellion, the payment of the tenth and twentieth deniers.”
And Ulenspiegel sang:
“O Duke! hearest thou the voice of the people,The strong dull clamour? Tis the sea that risesIn the hour of the mighty surges.Enough of gold, enough of blood.Enough of ruins. Beat upon the drum!The sword is drawn. Beat upon the drum of woe!“It is the nails tearing the bleeding wound,Robbery after murder. Must thou thenMix all our gold with our blood for your drink?We moved in ways of duty, faithful and trueTo the King’s Majesty. His Majesty is perjured,We are free of our oaths. Beat upon the drum of war.“Duke of Alba, bloody duke,See these booths, these shops shut fast,See these brewers, bakers, grocers,Refusing to sell so as not to pay.Who then salutes thee when thou art passing?No man. Feelest thou, like a steaming plagueHate and Scorn enwrap thee round?“The fair land of Flanders,The gay country of Brabant,Are sad as graveyards.There where of old, in freedom’s days,Sang the viols, squealed the fifes,There are silence now and death.Beat upon the drum of war.“Instead of jolly facesOf drinkers, and singing loversThere are pallid faces nowOf men that wait, resigned,The stroke of the sword of injustice.Beat upon the drum of war.“No man now hears in the tavernsThe jolly clink of pots,Nor the clear voices of girlsSinging in bands about the streets.And Brabant and Flanders, lands of mirth,Are become the lands of tears.Beat upon the drum of woe.“Land of our fathers, sufferer beloved,Stoop not your brow to the murderer’s foot,Toilsome bees, rush in your swarms,Upon the hornets from Spain.Corpses of women and girls buried alive,Cry out to Christ: ‘Vengeance!’“Wander in the fields by night, poor souls,Cry unto God! The arm quivers to strike,The sword is drawn, Duke; we will tear out thy entrailsAnd flog thy face with them.Beat upon the drum. The sword is drawn.Beat upon the drum. Long live the Beggar!”And all the seamen and the soldiers of Ulenspiegel’s ship and of the other ships sang likewise:
“The sword is drawn, long live the Beggar!”And their voices growled like a thunder of deliverance.