BETA

“ Oh thou to whose plebeian brow1
The noblest lords are forced to bow,2
And e’en thy sovereign must avow,3
Thy plenitude of power ;4
So high indeed thy name doth rise ;5
That men who love thee not nor
prize,6
Can with thy feelings sympathise7
In this triumphant hour.8
When high-born fools who would
think it shame9
To bear thy father’s honest name,10
Now humbly beg to share the fame11
And trophies of the war ;12
When ’neath the spur hot Stanley
frets,13
And, thankful for the post he gets,14
The last of the Plantagenets15
Walks fettered to thy car.16
Oh ! If thou couldst but understand,17
How great to rule the noblest land18
That mortal eye has ever scanned19
Since time its course began ;20
Thou wouldst not stoop their aid to
ask,21
But doff the actor’s hollow mask,22
Rise equal to the mighty task,23
Proclaim yourself a man.24
Then thou wilt only place retain25
To rid our commerce of its chain,26
The bigot’s folly to restrain,27
And give the poor man bread ;28
And then perchance, content and free,29
The people will thy guardians be,30
And in their gratitude decree31
A laurel for thy head.32
But if with low and factious aim,33
Thou playest the landlord’s degener-
ate game,34
No power on earth shall shield thy
fame35
From Britain’s darkest frown.36
Nor craft nor speech nor haughty
pride37
Shall turn the vengeful shaft aside,38
The curse of talent misapplied39
Alone shall drag thee down.40
And thou wilt leave to after-times41
Dark records of blood and crimes,42
And bards will tell in future rhymes,43
Of one who, raised by fate,44
From out the people’s ranks to be45
The lord of England’s sovereignty,46
Fell far below his destiny,47
And did not dare be great.”48