Hears their murmurings and complainings swelling louder than before,
They object—and ’tis no wonder—to the rule of force and plunder
That so long has kept them under, squeezing blood from every pore—
Have you any word of comfort that their patience may restore?”
His reply was “Tullamore.”
From my vision quick he glided; in my heart I then decided
That if this was England’s message by this popinjay brought o’er,
She had missed a chance of glory that would brighten all her story—
But, I said, that lanky Tory was a humbug and a bore: