Of laurels that still would encircle his head,
While they would be wearing the willow.
Nightly they burn for their brothers to be
Enfranchised, as they would have made 'em;
And little they'll reck, till the "rustic" be free,
Of how a cold world may upbraid 'em.
But half of the weary night was gone,
And my Lords were still busy enquiring,
"The deuce, now! the deuce! what IS to be done?
And they found that the effort was tiring.