The Son of Neptune

Worth in whatever sphere, should have a nitch, Altho' 'tis seldom gain'd but by the rich, The fault is owing to misguided pride, That judge's merit with blind fortune's guide. When Britain held the bold tyrannic rod, And cry'd "Ye slaves obey our sov'reign nod," The patriot sons of virtue took the flame, And fill'd the lists with hardy deeds of fame: Amongst the first, the boldest and the best, Brave Barry stands intrepidly confest.