And abused not my health and my vigour at first,
That I never might lack them at last.”
“You are hale, William Ewart,” the young man cried,
“And you never are heard to complain;
But yet I can sadness perceive in your looks;
Pray, what is the source of your pain?”
“Nay, nay, as to that,” William Ewart replied,
“Too closely you’re seeking to pry;
But if you insist upon knowing the cause,
The Whigs can the answer supply.”