No More Learning

17.

Wear, Fingal, thy trapping! [597] O'Connell, proclaim[ix]
His accomplishments! _His! ! ! _ and thy country convince
Half an age's contempt was an error of fame,
And that "Hal is the rascaliest, sweetest _young_ prince! "[iy]

18.

Will thy yard of blue riband, poor Fingal, recall
The fetters from millions of Catholic limbs?
Or, has it not bound thee the fastest of all
The slaves, who now hail their betrayer with hymns?

19.

Aye! "Build him a dwelling! " let each give his mite! [598]
Till, like Babel, the new royal dome hath arisen!
[iz]
Let thy beggars and helots their pittance unite--
And a palace bestow for a poor-house and prison!

20.

Spread--spread for Vitellius, the royal repast,
Till the gluttonous despot be stuffed to the gorge!
And the roar of his drunkards proclaim him at last
The Fourth of the fools and oppressors called "George! "

21.

Let the tables be loaded with feasts till they groan!
Till they _groan_ like thy people, through ages of woe!
Let the wine flow around the old Bacchanal's throne,
Like their blood which has flowed, and which yet has to flow.

22.

But let not _his_ name be thine idol alone--
On his right hand behold a Sejanus appears!
Thine own Castlereagh! let him still be thine own!
A wretch never named but with curses and jeers!

23.

Till now, when the Isle which should blush for his birth,
Deep, deep as the gore which he shed on her soil,
Seems proud of the reptile which crawled from her earth,
And for murder repays him with shouts and a smile. [599]

24.