An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,— 
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow 
Through public scorn,—mud from a muddy spring,— 
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know, 
But leech-like to their fainting country cling, 
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,— 
A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,— 
An army, which liberticide and prey 
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield 
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay; 
Religion Christless, Godless—a book sealed; 
A Senate,—Time's worst statute unrepealed,— 
Are graves, from which a glorious Phantom may 
Burst, to illumine our tempestous day.