Читать книгу Revised Edition of Poems - Bill o'th' Hoylus End - Страница 6

I sing no song of superstition,

   No dark deeds of an Inquisition,

No mad-brain’d theme of wild ambition,

   For lo, their doom is sealed!

But I will use my best endeavour,

   To praise the good, the wise, the clever,

Who will remember’d be for ever,

   The Earl of Beaconsfield.

When England was without alliance,

   He bid the Russians bold defiance,

On Austria had no reliance

   In either flood or field;

He proudly sent to Hornby message,

   The Dardanelles! go force the passage

In spite of Turkey, Bear, or Sausage,

   The dauntless Beaconsfield!

At Berlin, he with admiration

   Was gazed upon by every nation,

And, master of the situation,

   Vow’d Britons ne’er would yield.

For I am here, you may depend on’t,

   This Eastern brawl to make an end on’t,

To show both plaintiff and defendant

   I’m Earl of Beaconsfield!

Britannia now doth weep and ponder,

   Bereaved of him, her child of wonder,

No earthly power could break asunder

   His love for England’s weal.

And now those locks once dark as raven

   (For laurel leaves ne’er deck’d a craven)

Wear a laurel crown in Heaven,

   Glorious Beaconsfield!