Which kings have left so great—
That charter, noblest instrument on earth,
That grand old charter, gift of royalty—
Poor charter, what will all thy words be worth,
And what avail thine ancient liberty,
When in a lapsed state?
We—we—who strove to hold our powers complete,
If we have only fought and toiled in vain,
When all men kick, the region of our seat
Will suffer mortal pain—