Lament, lament, Sir Isaac Heard, Put mourning round thy page, Debrett, For here lies one, who ne'er preferr'd A Viscount to a Marquis yet. Beside him place the God of Wit, Before him Beauty's rosiest girls, Apollo for a star he'd quit, And Love's own sister for an Earl's. Did niggard fate no peers afford, He took, of course, to peers' relations; And, rather than not sport a Lord, Put up with even the last creations. Even Irish names, could he but tag 'em With "Lord" and "Duke", were sweet to call; And, at a pinch, Lord Ballyraggum Was better than no Lord at all. Heaven grant him now some noble nook, For, rest his soul! he'd rather be Genteelly damn'd beside a Duke, Than sav'd in vulgar company. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SONG OF HIAWATHA: PICTURE-WRITING by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW FROLIC by GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL STANZAS TO A LADY by JOHN CODRINGTON BAMPFYLDE PRAYER by EVGENY ABRAMOVICH BARATYNSKY THE ADVERTISING MAN'S LOVE SONG by BERTON BRALEY SPIRITS OF SUMMER by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY IN PASSION WEEK: MONDAY by JOHN BYROM |