The Sentimental Irishman

A worthy son of old Hibernia's race, With manly port and dignity of face, Whose native hospitality is great, Mark'd with the splendid equipage of state; Whose patriot merit points him out for praise, That soar beyond the measure of my lays;— Each genuine whig admires his nobler spirit, No truer Paddy ever toasted claret. Always secure from Fortune's faithless hand, He holds her gilded treasure at command; Distends the gold which Heav'n has kindly sent. His lib'ral hand oft' shews his good intent. His native country where his youth he pass'd, Lives in his heart the foremost and the last; Its wand'ring sons partake his gen'rous aid, And feeling friendship here is best display'd, No niggard penury betrays his soul, But social kindness dignifies the whole; His nobler motives from no meaness spring, He lives like th' son of some old Irish King.