But oh, poor Ireland! if revenge be sweet
For centuries of wrong, for dark deceit
And withering insult--for the Union thrown
Into thy bitter cup when that alone
Of slavery's draught was wanting[13]--if for this
Revenge be sweet, thou _hast_ that daemon's bliss;
For sure 'tis more than hell's revenge to fee
That England trusts the men who've ruined thee:--
That in these awful days when every hour
Creates some new or blasts some ancient power,
When proud Napoleon like the enchanted shield
Whose light compelled each wondering foe to yield,
With baleful lustre blinds the brave and free
And dazzles Europe into slavery,--
That in this hour when patriot zeal should guide,
When Mind should rule and--Fox should _not_ have died,
All that devoted England can oppose
To enemies made fiends and friends made foes,
Is the rank refuse, the despised remains
Of that unpitying power, whose whips and chains
Drove Ireland first to turn with harlot glance
Towards other shores and woo the embrace of France;--
Those hacked and tainted tools, so foully fit
For the grand artisan of mischief, Pitt,
So useless ever but in vile employ,
So weak to save, so vigorous to destroy--
Such are the men that guard thy threatened shore,
Oh England! sinking England! boast no more.
[1] England began very early to feel the effects of cruelty towards her
dependencies.
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