Such were the sounds that through the serried ranks
Of Jingo’s henchmen, winged with hatred, thrilled;
Rolled the harsh words on Lothian’s braes and banks,
Spread as they rolled, and Britain’s boundaries filled.
Sly Beaconsfield looked on with pitying smile;
“Revenge!” wild Cranbrook cried, and conned a speech the while.
On a stump, whose leafy crown
Had erst Dalmeny’s wood adorned,
Wrapt in an agèd Ulster brown,
Tireless the statesman stood and mourned.