And ever and anon he beat,
With doubled fist his cushion’d seat;
And though sometimes, each breathless pause between,
Astonished Melbourne at his side,
His moderating voice applied,
Yet still he kept his stern, unalter’d mien,
While battering the Whigs and Tories black and blue.
Thy ravings, Goulburn, to no theme were fix’d.
Not ev’n thy virtue is without its spots;
With piety thy politics were mix’d,