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 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
116
Over the Lord D***rs Door.
Unhappier Age who e'er saw,When Truth doth go for Treason;
Every Blockead's Will for Law,
And Coxcombs Sense for Reason.
Religion's made a Bawd of State,
To serve the Pimps and Panders,
Our Liberty a Prison Gate,
And Irishmen Commanders.
O Wretched is our Fate!
What Dangers do we run,
We must be Wicked to be Great,
And to be Just, undone.
'Tis thus our Sov'raign keeps his Word,
And makes the Nation Great;
To Irishmen he trusts the Sword,
To Jesuits the State.
| Poems on Affairs of State | |