George Canning

Needy knife-grinder! whither are ye going?
Rough is the road, your wheel is out of order;
Bleak read more

Needy knife-grinder! whither are ye going?
Rough is the road, your wheel is out of order;
Bleak blows the blast--your hat has got a hole in it.
So have your breeches.

Whene'er with haggard eyes I view
This dungeon that I'm rotting in,
I think of those companions read more

Whene'er with haggard eyes I view
This dungeon that I'm rotting in,
I think of those companions true
Who studied with me at the U-
Niversity of Gottingen.
- George Canning, Song--Of One Eleven Years in Prison,

I called the New World into existence to redress the balance of
the Old.

I called the New World into existence to redress the balance of
the Old.

Away with the cant of "Measures not men!"--the idle supposition
that it is the harness and not the horses read more

Away with the cant of "Measures not men!"--the idle supposition
that it is the harness and not the horses that draw the chariot
along. No Sir, if the comparison must be made, if the
distinction must be taken, men are everything, measures
comparatively nothing.

Give me the avowed, the erect, the manly foe;
Bold I can meet--perhaps may turn his blow;
read more

Give me the avowed, the erect, the manly foe;
Bold I can meet--perhaps may turn his blow;
But of all plagues, good Heaven, thy wrath can send,
Save, save, oh! save me from the candid friend.