Since his veins are corrupted to mud,
Yet this is the dew
Which the tree shall renew
Of Liberty, planted by Ludd!
There's an amiable chanson for you—all impromptu. I have written it principally to shock your neighbour ——, who is all clergy and loyalty—mirth and innocence—milk and water.
"But the Carnival's coming,
Oh Thomas Moore,
The Carnival's coming,
Oh Thomas Moore,
Masking and humming,