Bob Southey! You're a poet—Poet-laureate,

And representative of all the race;

Although 't is true that you turned out a Tory at

Last,—yours has lately been a common case;

And now, my Epic Renegade! what are ye at?

With all the Lakers, in and out of place?

A nest of tuneful persons, to my eye

Like "four and twenty Blackbirds in a pye;