THOU Warwick of our age! whose puissant arm Can make or unmake Empires; whose starr'd shield Can turn the fortune of the doubtful field From dolorous gloom to Victory's heighten'd charm. Thrice from disruption and from deadly harm Thou hast deliver'd! knowing when to wield The sword, and when—far harder task!—to yield To fierce entreaty or to faction warm. In thee the Irish rebels met their foil; Not thee the wily Dopper might outface; The German found thee native of the soil, And his "swill'd insolence" to rage gave place. And now, when most seek ease from strife and toil, Thou standest forth the champion of our race. |