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- THE SEVEN SAGES
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- i{The First.} My great-grandfather spoke to Edmund Burke
- In Grattan's house.
- i{The Second.} My great-grandfather shared
- A pot-house bench with Oliver Goldsmith once.
- i{The Third.} My great-grandfather's father talked of music,
- Drank tar-water with the Bishop of Cloyne.
- i{The Fourth.} But mine saw Stella once.
- i{The Fifth.} Whence came our thought?
- i{The Sixth.} From four great minds that hated Whiggery.
- i{The Fifth.} Burke was a Whig.
- i{The Sixth.} Whether they knew or not,
- Goldsmith and Burke, Swift and the Bishop of Cloyne
- All hated Whiggery; but what is Whiggery?
- A levelling, rancorous, rational sort of mind
- That never looked out of the eye of a saint
- Or out of drunkard's eye.
- i{The Seventh.} All's Whiggery now,
- But we old men are massed against the world.
- i{The First.} American colonies, Ireland, France and India
- Harried, and Burke's great melody against it.
- i{The Second.} Oliver Goldsmith sang what he had seen,
- Roads full of beggars, cattle in the fields,
- But never saw the trefoil stained with blood,
- The avenging leaf those fields raised up against it.
- i{The Fourth.} The tomb of Swift wears it away.
- i{The Third.} A voice
- Soft as the rustle of a reed from Cloyne
- That gathers volume; now a thunder-clap.
- i{The Sixtb.} What schooling had these four?
- i{The Seventh.} They walked the roads
- Mimicking what they heard, as children mimic;
- They understood that wisdom comes of beggary.
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