Should raise your hands and righteously exclaim:
“If this be poetry,
What the de’il is fame?”
“This isle the mightiest naval power on earth,
This one small isle—the land of every sea—
Poor England!”—what are Poets Laureate worth?
And what avail thy ancient fame, oh T.,
When thou art fallen from thy high estate?
You—you—who had the penning of those lines—
If you have compassed your own disgrace,