How few, how weak and withered of their force
The Tory remnant, which all men might see
Like stranded wrecks. The tide returning hoarse
Sets them afloat again! Time rolls its ceaseless course.
There yet live those who can remember well
When last the Liberal Chief his bugle blew;
When county broad and borough big, as well
As far Midlothian’s heart, the signal knew,
And fast the faithful clan around him drew.
And now again his warning note is wound,