By Charles Harpur

I long did hope the soil of this bright clime,
Being unenfeoffed to Oligarchical sway,
Was a meet cradle for the birth sublime
Of just Equality at no distant day:
The which, when once its truthful beauty's ray
Maturely shone, should southward draw the prime
Regard of th' world, thence wiser for all time,
And studious more to join the harmonious lay
Of Perfect Freedom perfectly begun:
But now this Hope is shrunk into a Fear!
England's misgovernment its worst hath done
To sow the seed of splendid evil here!
In Sheepshanks we behold a destined Peer,
And Oxtail's stockmen shall 'my lord' his son.