Poem introduction

These new recordings have been commissioned by Pendle Radicals, in partnership with the Finding Ethel project, and made possible by the National Lottery Heritage Fund. Pendle Radicals is a part of the Pendle Hill Landscape Partnership.


Here come the marchers out of Hell; 

Grim Hell of hunger, grind, and murk; 

The Hell of love men dare not tell; 

Of blunted, stunted overwork. 

Behold, behold, oh ye who dwell, 

In Heaven’s seraphic hemisphere: 

Brave souls can burst the bolts of Hell. 

Which are but forged by palsied Fear. 


Here comes the marchers out of Hell – 

Wave banners red as furnace flames, 

And swell, oh brazen trumpet – swell 

As loud and deep as are their shames! 

And hear those footsteps, once pell-mell 

To tread each other, ring as one, 

Oh, ye whose heaven is built on Hell, 

And know one shade of Hell has gone. 


Here come the marchers out of Hell; 

The dwellers in the underworld, 

Who drudge and die within their cell. 

Against whose walls what storms are hurled! 

Run Hope, the glorious news to tell, 

That through the shrouded, misty way 

Have marched the marchers out of Hell, 

To steal a sunny beam of Day. 


from Daily Herald newspaper; 11 July 1913, © Ethel Carnie Holdsworth 1913, used by permission of the copyright holder Helen Brown.

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Books by Ethel Carnie Holdsworth