Which pious ages gifts to God had made,
Leave the bewildered peasant tempest-tost,
His faith unaided and his altar lost,
To quit for distant lands his long-loved home,
Or helpless sink beneath the foot of Rome?
Where shall he look for succour? shall he trust
That Royal womanhood will still be just?
Will their dear Queen their loyal love disown,
And let her statesmen drive them from her throne?
The man of State who wants a heart to feel