He comes in the promise and bloom of threescore,
To perform in the pageant the Sovereign's part—
But long live the Shamrock, which shadows him o'er!
Could the Green in his hat be transferred to his heart!
Could that long-withered spot but be verdant again,
And a new spring of noble affections arise—
Then might Freedom forgive thee this dance in thy chain,
And this shout of thy slavery which saddens the skies.
Is it madness or meanness which clings to thee now?
Were he God—as he is but the commonest clay,
With scarce fewer wrinkles than sins on his brow—
Such servile devotion might shame him away.
Aye, roar in his train! let thine orators lash
Their fanciful spirits to pamper his pride—
Not thus did thy Grattan indignantly flash
His soul o'er the freedom implored and denied.
Ever glorious Grattan! the best of the good!
So simple in heart, so sublime in the rest!
With all which Demosthenes wanted endued,
And his rival, or victor, in all he possessed.
Ere Tully arose in the zenith of Rome,
- To enact in the pageant ——.—[MS. M.]
- ["Never did I witness such enthusiasm.... Cheer followed cheer—and shout followed shout ... accompanied by exclamation of 'God bless King George IV.!' 'Welome, welcome, ten thousand times to these shores!'"—Morning Chronicle, August 16.]