> England in 1819
> An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king
Here's Byron on the same topic:
In the first year of Freedom's second dawn Died George the Third; although no tyrant, one Who shielded tyrants, till each sense withdrawn Left him nor mental nor external sun. A better farmer ne'er brushed dew from lawn, A worse king never left a realm undone! He died—but left his subjects still behind, One half as mad—and t'other no less blind.
He died ! his death made no great stir on earth: His burial made some pomp; there was profusion Of velvet—gilding—brass—and no great dearth Of aught but tears—save those shed by collusion: For these things may be bought at their true worth; Of elegy there was the due infusion — Bought also; and the torches, cloaks and banners, Heralds, and relics of old Gothic manners,
Formed a sepulchral melodrame. Of all The fools who flocked to swell or see the show, Who cared about the corpse ? The funeral Made the attraction, and the black the woe, There throbbed not there a thought which pierced the pall; And when the gorgeous coffin was laid low, It seemed the mockery of hell to fold The rottenness of eighty years in gold.