BARON ALFRED VteRE DE VERE.

Wanganui Herald, Volume XIX, Issue 5303, 8 March 1884, Page 1

BARON ALFRED VERE DE VERE.

(pall mall gazette.) Baron A1?A 1 ? red Vere de Vere, Of me you v . ji ao new renov. x ; You thought to daze the counti/ folk And cockieyri when you came to toy 1. See Wordsworth, She Hey, Co>- jer, B\ '8, Withdraw in scp 1 and sit re.'red ! „ -i Thelf^t of borne six hundred Er''i Is not a place to be desired. Baron Alfred Vere de Vere, We thought you proud to bear you 1 ' name, Yor- pride is yet no mete for ova, Too proud to think a title fame. We hail the geDius— not the lord : We love the poeo's inisr charms. A simple singer K'i dreams Is woiih a hundred coats-of-8- :ns. Baron Alfred Vere de Vere, I see you march, I hear you say, '* Bow wow, ye'lower middle classes !" ' Is all the burden of your lay. We held you first without a peer, And princely by your noble words— The Senior Wrangler of our bards Is now the' Wooden Spoon of lords. 1 Baron Alfred Vere de Vere, You put strange memories in my head ; For Just five decades now have flown Since we all mourned young Arthur dead. 1 Oh, your wet eyes, your low replies ! Our tears have mingled with your tear ; . To think that all such a^ony Should end in making you a peer ! Baron Alfred Vere de Vere, Our England has had poets too ; They sang some grand old songs of yore, But never reached such heights as you. Will Shakespeare was a prince of bards, Our Milton was a king to hear, But had their manners that repose Which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere ? . Baron Alfred Vere de Vere, , Kobe, now your days are sere and spent ; The King of Snobs is at your door, To trace your long (and deep) descent. A- man's a man. for a 1 that, And rich on forty pounds a year ; If rank be the true guinea-stamp To win Parnassus— die a peer ! Trust me, Baron Vere de Vere, When nobles eat their noblest words, The grand old gardener and his wife Smile at the airs of poet-lords. Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 'Tis bi> l y noole to be goqd ; ' ' Plain soi^s are more than coronets, ' And si_ .pie lives than baronhood. • I know you, Baron Vere de Vere, You pine among your halls and bays ; The jaded light of your vain eyes Is wearied with the flood of praise. In glowing fame with boundless wealth, But sickening of a vague disease, You are so dead to simple things, You needs must play such pranks as these. Alfred, Alfred Vere de Vere, If -Time be heavy on your hands, Are there no toilers in our streets, Nor any poor in all these lands ? Oh ! teach the weak to strive and hope, . Or teach the great to help the low, , Eray Heaven for a noble heart, And let the foolish title go.