Was little wont his joy to speak,
But then his colour rose.
"Now, Scotland! shortly shalt thou see
That age checks not McGLADSTONE's glee,
Nor stints his swashing blows!"
Again that light has fired his eye,
Again his form swells bold and high;
The broken voice of age is gone,
'Tis vigorous manhood's lofty tone.
The foe he menaces again,