6.

He comes in the promise and bloom of threescore,
To perform in the pageant the Sovereign's part-1
But long live the Shamrock, which shadows him o'er!
Could the Green in his hat be transferred to his heart!

7.

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.

8.

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.

9.

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.

IO.

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.

II.

Ere Tully arose in the zenith of Rome,

Though unequalled, preceded, the task was begun

i. To enact in the pageant [MS. M.]

1. ["Never did I witness such enthusiasm. . . . Cheer followed cheerand shout followed shout. . . accompanied by exclamation of 'God bless King George IV. !' 'Welome, welcome, ten thousand times to these shores!'"-Morning Chronicle, August 16.]

But Grattan sprung up like a god from the tomb
Of ages, the first, last, the saviour, the one!1

12.

With the skill of an Orpheus to soften the brute;
With the fire of Prometheus to kindle mankind;
Even Tyranny, listening, sate melted or mute,

And Corruption shrunk scorched from the glance of his mind.

13.

But back to our theme! Back to despots and slaves!1 Feasts furnished by Famine! rejoicings by Pain! True Freedom but welcomes, while Slavery still raves, When a week's Saturnalia hath loosened her chain.

14.

Let the poor squalid splendour thy wreck can afford, (As the bankrupt's profusion his ruin would hide) Gild over the palace, Lo! Erin, thy Lord!

Kiss his foot with thy blessing-his blessings denied ! ".

15.

Or if freedom past hope be extorted at last,"

If the idol of brass find his feet are of clay,

Must what terror or policy wring forth be classed With what monarchs ne'er give, but as wolves yield their prey?

16.

Each brute hath its nature; a King's is to reign,-
To reign! in that word see, ye ages, comprised

The cause of the curses all annals contain,

From Cæsar the dreaded to George the despised!

-.

i. Aye! back to our theme -[Medwin.]

ii. Kiss his foot, with thy blessing, for blessings denied 1-[Medwin.] iii. Or if freedom-[Medwin.]

1. ["After the stanza on Grattan, ... will it please you to cause insert the following Addenda, which I dreamed of during to-day's Siesta."Letter to Moore, September 20, 1821.]

17.

Wear, Fingal, thy trapping! O'Connell, proclaim1
His accomplishments! His!!! and thy country con-

vince

Half an age's contempt was an error of fame,

And that "Hal is the rascaliest, sweetest young prince ! "i

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! 2
Till, like Babel, the new royal dome hath arisen !iii.
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!

ii. And the King is no scoundrel-whatever the Prince.—[MS. M.] iii. Till proudly the new — --[MS. M.]

1.["The Earl of Fingall (Arthur James Plunkett, K.P., eighth earl, d. 1836), the leading Catholic nobleman, is to be created a Knight of St. Patrick."-Morning Chronicle, August 18.]

2. [There was talk of a testimonial being presented to the King. O'Connell suggested that if possible it should take the form of "a palace, to which not only the rank around him could contribute, but to the erection of which every peasant could from his cottage contribute his humble mite."—Morning Chronicle, August 18.]

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.1

24.

Without one single ray of her genius,-without
The fancy, the manhood, the fire of her race-
The miscreant who well might plunge Erin in doubt
If she ever gave birth to a being so base.

25.

L

If she did let her long-boasted proverb be hushed, Which proclaims that from Erin no reptile can spring See the cold-blooded Serpent, with venom full flushed, Still warming its folds in the breast of a King!".

26.

Shout, drink, feast, and flatter! Oh! Erin, how low
Wert thou sunk by misfortune and tyranny, till
Thy welcome of tyrants hath plunged thee below
The depth of thy deep in a deeper gulf still.

i.

ii.

might make Humanity doubt.—[MS. M.]

in the heart of a king.-[Medwin. MS. M. erased.] 1. [The Marquis of Londonderry was cheered in the Castle-yard." "He was," says the correspondent of the Morning Chronicle, "the instrument of Ireland's degradation-he broke down her spirit, and prostrated, I fear, for ever her independence. To see the author of this measure cheered near the very spot," etc.]

27.

My voice, though but humble, was raised for thy right; 1 My vote, as a freeman's, still voted thee free;

This hand, though but feeble, would arm in thy fight," And this heart, though outworn, had a throb still for thee!

28.

Yes, I loved thee and thine, though thou art not my

land;

ii.

I have known noble hearts and great souls in thy sons, And I wept with the world, o'er the patriot band

Who are gone, but I weep them no longer as once.

29.

For happy are they now reposing afar,—

Thy Grattan, thy Curran, thy Sheridan, all
Who, for years, were the chiefs in the eloquent war,
And redeemed, if they have not retarded, thy fall.

30.

Yes, happy are they in their cold English graves!
Their shades cannot start to thy shouts of to-day—
Nor the steps of enslavers and chain-kissing slaves
Be stamped in the turf o'er their fetterless clay.

31.

iii.

Till now I had envied thy sons and their shore,
Though their virtues were hunted, their liberties fled; iv

i. My arm, though but feeble —.—[Medwin.]
though thou wert not my land.--[Medwin.]

ii.

iii. Nor the steps of enslavers, and slave-kissing slaves
Be damp'd in the turf · -[Medwin.]

iv. Though their virtues are blunted ·

-.

.-[Medwin.]

1. [Byron spoke and voted in favour of the Earl of Donoughmore's motion for a Committee on the Roman Catholic claims, April 21, 1812. (See "Parliamentary Speeches," Appendix II., Letters, 1898, ii. 431443.)

2. [For Grattan and Curran, see letter to Moore, October 2, 1813, Letters, 1898, ii. 271, note 1; for Sheridan, see "Introduction to Monody," etc., ante, pp. 69, 70.]

VOL. IV.

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