More needed comfort from thy blessed bowl
Than brooding Bismarck in his exiled hour?
He who, when storms about his land did lour,
Faced them, and rode them out, and to the goal
Of glory, and to safety's haven brought
His mighty charge! Memories of foes outfought,
And rivals out-manœuvred, stir his soul,
His strong stark soul, as there he sits and shrouds
That granite face in thick tobacco-clouds
Blown from the "long, and valuable" gift