V.

"How noble is his language--never pert-- How grand his sentiments which ne'er run riot! As when he swore 'by God he'd sell his shirt To head the poll!' I wonder who would buy it The skin has passed through such a deal of dirt In grovelling on to power--such stains now dye it-- So black the long-worn Lion's hide in hue, You'd swear his very heart had sweated through.