SQUIRE OF GRUMBLETON 



XI 



Knaves and blacklegs, who have elbow'd 

 From the Turf all honest men, 



Blasted names and ruin'd houses 

 Fallen ne'er to rise again. 



XII 



Cant and unwhipp'd swindlers — 

 Rant and rivalry of sect — 



Pride and working wenches 

 In silk and satin deck'd. 



XIII 



Song from the green bough banish'd 

 The voiceless woodlands still. 



The sparkle of the trout stream 

 Foul'd and blacken'd by the mill. 



XIV 



A Unionist each craftsman, 



A poacher every clown. 

 Brawl and beerhouse in the Village, 



Lust and ginshop in the Town. 



XV 



Though with all thy faults, dear England, 



In my heart I love thee still. 

 These are plague-spots on thy beauty 



Which mine eyes with sorrow fill. 



T 145 



