Lost Normanby pour’d forth his sad adieu;
While Palmerston, with graceful air,
Wildly toss’d his scented hair;
And pensive Morpeth join’d the sniv’lling crew.
Yet still they lingered round with fond delay,
Humming, hawing, stopping, musing,
Tory rascals all abusing,
Till forced to move away.
But, oh! how alter’d was the whining tone
When, loud-tongued Lyndhurst, that unblushing wight,