1828

Thou art gone ! thou art gone with thy sceptre of mildness
Thy smiles, and thy tears, and thy moments of wildness.
But'this humble memorial to thee I dedicate,
Mild 1828."
For thou hast dispelled our despairing and sadness,
And industry and toil hast enlighten 'd with gladness,
And bustled in our harbours with commerce and freight,
Blest 1828.

The reaper rejoiced as he counted his sowing,
And heap'd up his garners and barns to o'erflowing ;
And thy winter has breathed with a soft autumn heat,
Kind 1828.

No frost ever sheeted our rivers and fountains,
No drifted snow ever cover'd our mountains,
And thou leavest our flocks on an ever-green height,
Sweet 1828.

In the region of love thy reign has been glorious,
In the hearts of the maidens thy sceptre victorious ;
And there will yet be news of great moment and weight,
Of 1828.

It is true thou hast run some extravagant rigs,
Making idiots and fools of the Catholics and Whigs ;
But still thou hast left us triumphant as yet,
Strong 1828.

Thou hast chill'd the soul of the mariner with wonder,
Thou hast howl'd in the wind, thou hast boom'd in the thunder ;
But the smiles of repentance in thee were innate,
Good 1828.

Thou hast garnish'd the fields of Greece that were gory,
(Restored to her quiet, but not to her glory !)
And humbled the pride of a vain autocrat,
Brave 1828.

Thou art gone ! thou art gone, to return to us never, —
In the sepulchre of Time thou art shrouded for ever ;
And the shadows of Oblivion shall over thee set,
Mild 1828.