The Two Agitators, Written at a Ball in Brambleburg
Great Daniel O'Connell is gone to the North:
His tongue a remonstrance indignant pours forth,
And eloquence flows from his mouth.
But you, pretty Jane, with a pair of black eyes,
Come over the natives of Kent to surprise,
And agitate hearts in the South.
He fires with a word, and you with a look,—
Head and heart thus invaded, what mortal can brook?
Alas! there's no end to our woes.
He agitates old, and you agitate young:
Till you close your peepers, and he holds his tongue,
Poor Britain will ne'er find repose.
His tongue a remonstrance indignant pours forth,
And eloquence flows from his mouth.
But you, pretty Jane, with a pair of black eyes,
Come over the natives of Kent to surprise,
And agitate hearts in the South.
He fires with a word, and you with a look,—
Head and heart thus invaded, what mortal can brook?
Alas! there's no end to our woes.
He agitates old, and you agitate young:
Till you close your peepers, and he holds his tongue,
Poor Britain will ne'er find repose.
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