Save those the mother gives to us. He was
A climbing star, which had not fully shone;
Yet promised, in his glory, to surpass
Our champion star ascendant: but, alas!
The sceptred shade that values early might,
And pow’r, and pith, and bottom, as the grass,
Gave with his fleshless fist a buffet slight—
.tb
“’Tis done. Green-mantled Erin
May weep; her hopes of milling sway past by,