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22 The age of bargaining, said Burke, Has come: to-day the turbaned Turk (Sleep, Richard of the lion heart! Sleep on, nor from your cerements start)
 * Is England’s friend and fast ally;

The Moslem tramples on the Greek, And on the Cross and altar-stone,
 * And Christendom looks tamely on,

And hears the Christian maiden shriek,
 * And sees the Christian father die;

And not a sabre-blow is given For Greece and fame, for faith and heaven,
 * By Europe’s craven chivalry.

You’ll ask if yet the Percy lives
 * In the armed pomp of feudal state?

The present representatives
 * Of Hotspur and his “gentle Kate,”

Are some half-dozen serving-men In the drab coat of William Penn;
 * A chambermaid, whose lip and eye,

And cheek, and brown hair, bright and curling,
 * Spoke Nature’s aristocracy;

And one, half groom, half seneschal, Who bowed me through court, bower, and hall, From donjon-keep to turret wall,
 * For ten-and-sixpence sterling.