And caged within the Tower:
Afraid at his return to meet
Th’ expectant rabble in the street,
He skulks incog to Piccadilly—
Did ever patriot look so silly?
Long, long, and longer grows the hero’s face:
He meditates, in sullen mood,
On fickle popularity:
He’d blush, if blush reformer could,
And lets the toast go by!