“True Patriots, pray look upon this sty,
These modern brutes who tarnish Britain's name;
The proudest men who cause the greatest shame.
No voices tell her beauties, save the sigh
Of those who know her ancient blood runs dry.
Great poems, prose and theses lose acclaim.
What stirs these souls? Not deeds of worthy fame,
But flags held high, as swords to pierce our sky.
What country do they boast of? And what good
Is pride? Their empty praises pound in waves,
Wearing the slate of noble English graves!
Such Lords of art once lived, and name this nation
Great still! To think their hearts held British blood;
Long years before this paltry generation”
