While the poor were unheard when their suit they preferr'd, And appeal'd their distresses to thee? Say, once in thine hour, was thy medicine of power To extinguish the fever of ail? And seem'd, as the pride of thy leech-craft e'en tried O'er omnipotent death to prevail? Alas, that thine aid should have ever betray'd Thy hope when the need was thine own; What salve or annealing sufficed for thy healing When the hours of thy portion were flown? Or--wert thou a hero, a leader to glory, While armies thy truncheon obey'd; To victory cheering, as thy foemen careering In flight, left their mountains of dead? Was thy valiancy laid, or unhilted thy blade, When came onwards in battle array The sepulchre-swarms, ensheathed in their arms, To sack and to rifle their prey? How they joy in their spoil, as thy body the while Besieging, the reptile is vain, And her beetle-mate blind hums his gladness to find His defence in the lodge of thy brain! Some dig where the sheen of the ivory has been, Some, the organ where music repair'd; In rabble and rout they come in and come out At the gashes their fangs have bared. * * * * * Do I hold in my hand a whole lordship of land, Represented by nakedness, here? Perhaps not unkind to the helpless thy mind, Nor all unimparted thy gear; Perhaps stern of brow to thy tenantry thou! To leanness their countenances grew-- 'Gainst their crave for respite, when thy clamour for right Required, to a moment, its due; While the frown of thy pride to the aged denied To cover their head from the chill, And humbly they stand, with their bonnet in hand, As cold blows the blast of the hill. Thy serfs may look on, unheeding thy frown, Thy rents and thy mailings unpaid; All praise to the stroke their bondage that broke! While but claims their obeisance the dead. * * * * *