Lucy said she knew one, but she would never tell it me." Wogan's poetry, however, was of quite a different kind, and had Gaydon looked at it a trifle more closely, he would have experienced some relief.

It was all about the sorrows and miseries of his unfortunate race and the cruel oppression of England.

England owed all its great men to Ireland and was currish enough never to acknowledge the debt.

Wogan always grew melancholy and grave-faced on that subject when he had the leisure to be idle.

He thought bitterly of the many Irish officers sent into exile and killed in the service of alien countries; his sense of injustice grew into a passionate sort of despair, and the despair tumbled out of him in sonorous Latin verse written in the Virgilian measure.