Shame penetrate a donkey’s hide?
Scalpel—
So far, I grant, you are secure;
’Tis yours to plod, to serve, endure;
Within the bounds that nature gave,
Rest satisfied, nor wider crave.
The class of Irish thus misled
Are sound of heart, though weak of head,
Weak,—not from lack of mental force,
Of this they are the fruitful source;