And ope the loyal current of their soul.
Full many a Castlereagh, with hands yet clean,
The hinder benches on his side may bear,
Full many a sad Fitzgerald blush unseen,
And waste his diffidence on desert air.
Their names, their numbers, to the public gaze,
May show as fair as some of nobler note,
And many a holy hint Charles Long conveys,
To teach the rustic senator to vote.
For he (division’s stern demand to meet),