And Cribb, sublime, no lowlier rival fearing,
Before, sole Ammon of the fistic sky,
Concerted, quaffing his blue ruin high,
Till comes the swell that come to all men must,
By whose ‘foul blow’ Sir Daniel low doth lie,
Summons the champion to resign his trust,
And mingles his with kings’, slaves’, chieftains’, beggars’ dust!”
The Funeral.
On Sunday, February 27, 1820, the remains of this celebrated character were borne, with all due pomp and solemnity, from his family residence in Greek Street to the last asylum at Bully’s Acre, where his ancestors lie quietly inurned. An immense concourse, some in carriages and some on horseback, moving in slow and measured pace, formed part of the procession. There was a strong muster of the fancy. The gloves were carried on a cushion in front of the hearse, from which the horses had been unyoked by the crowd, and multitudes contended for the honour of assisting in drawing it. The procession took its route through the leading streets of the city, and the numbers, as it passed, increased until the body of the champion was lodged in its last resting-place. It is for posterity to do justice to the prowess of Sir Daniel Donnelly. Not the least remarkable feature in his eventful history is, that he was the last person who received the honour of knighthood during the regency: there might have been, and probably were, worse men among those who received that honour before him. Although last, he did not deserve to be held as least, among the knights of our day.
“What dire misfortune has our land o’erspread?