When will they come again?
In those rare days, the press was seldom known to snarl or bark,
But sweetly sang of men in power like any tuneful lark;
Grave judges, too, to all their evil deeds were in the dark;
And not a man in twenty score knew how to make his mark.
Oh, the fine old English Tory times;
Soon may they come again!
(The following stanza was omitted by Mr. Forster.)
Those were the days for taxes, and for war’s infernal din;
For scarcity of bread, that fine old dowagers might win;