Written in a blaze of fury, these lines target Lord Castlereagh’s government and its crushing of political freedom. Shelley imagines England—Albion—as a deathly mother whose stillborn children are any hope of liberty. Corpses, stones, and abortions pile up in the imagery, all frozen and helpless. The speaker’s voice is bitter and mockingly defiant; he dares the tyrant to dance on the bodies because no resistance remains. That sarcasm then curdles into a horrific wedding scene, inviting Oppressor to marry Ruin and let Fear, Disquiet, and Strife be his bedfellows. The mood is suffocating: a bacchanal of Death, Sin, and destructive wealth, where truth lies mute. Every cold tomb and senseless clay body drives home the point that the ruler’s road of trampled victims is also his own path to the grave.
Lines Written During the Castlereagh Administration — Summary
Corpses are cold in the tomb; Stones on the pavement are dumb; Abortions are dead in the womb, And their mothers look pale--like the death-white shore Of Albion, free no more.
Her sons are as stones in the way-- They are masses of senseless clay-- They are trodden, and move not away,-- The abortion with which SHE travaileth Is Liberty, smitten to death.
Then trample and dance, thou Oppressor! For thy victim is no redresser; Thou art sole lord and possessor Of her corpses, and clods, and abortions--they pave Thy path to the grave.
Hearest thou the festival din Of Death, and Destruction, and Sin, And Wealth crying "Havoc!" within? 'Tis the bacchanal triumph that makes Truth dumb, Thine Epithalamium.
Ay, marry thy ghastly wife! Let Fear and Disquiet and Strife Spread thy couch in the chamber of Life! Marry Ruin, thou Tyrant! and Hell be thy guide To the bed of the bride!