SONG OF THE POCO-CURANTE SOCIETY.

To those we love we've drank tonight; But now attend and stare not, While I the ampler list recite Of those for whom WE CARE NOT.

For royal men, howe'er they frown, If on their fronts they bear not That noblest gem that decks a crown, The People's Love—WE CARE NOT.

For slavish men who bend beneath A despot yoke, yet dare not Pronounce the will whose very breath Would rend its links—WE CARE NOT.

For priestly men who covet sway And wealth, tho' they declare not; Who point, like finger-posts, the way They never go—WE CARE NOT.

For martial men who on their sword, Howe'er it conquers, wear not The pledges of a soldier's word, Redeemed and pure—WE CARE NOT.

For legal men who plead for wrong. And, tho' to lies they swear not, Are hardly better than the throng Of those who do—WE CARE NOT.

For courtly men who feed upon The land, like grubs, and spare not The smallest leaf where they can sun Their crawling limbs—WE CARE NOT.

For wealthy men who keep their mines In darkness hid, and share not The paltry ore with him who pines In honest want—WE CARE NOT.

For prudent men who hold the power Of Love aloof, and bare not Their hearts in any guardless hour To Beauty's shaft—WE CARE NOT.

For all, in short, on land or sea, In camp or court, who are not, Who never were, or e'er will be Good men and true—WE CARE NOT.