A mighty warrior, in the House of Lords,
Swallowing, alas! a bitter, bitter pill;
Eating, poor man, his own sad words,
Exceedingly against his noble will;
Whilst Rawdon by his side, with martial face,
Commandeth him to swallow with a grace;
Would make an interesting scene, indeed,
And show the courage of King Charles's breed!
How like a doctor, forcing down the throat
Of some poor puling child a dose of salts,
At which its little soul revolts,
With wriggling limbs, wry mouths, and piteous note;
Yet forc'd to take the formidable purge,
Or taste a bitt'rer dose, the threat'ned scourge!
Or Richmond
, watchful of the state's salvation,
Sprinkling his ravelins o'er the nation;
Now buying leathern boxes up by tons,
Improving thus the nature of great guns;
Guns blest with double natures, mild and rough,
To give a broadside, or a pinch of snuff.
Or Richmond
at the enormous reck'ning struck,
At Portsmouth battling hard about a duck.
A certain high and mighty duchess,
Hugging her husband in her cat-like clutches,
Biting and tearing him with brandy zeal;
Whose flax in heaps is seen to fly around,
Whilst he, pale wight, emits a plaintive sound,
Like animals that furnish man with veal;
Would make another pleasing scene,
Showing the mettle of an arrant quean;
Longing to shine a first-rate star at court,
For satire's pen a subject of rare sport;
Longing to purify a luckless blood,
Deep-stain'd and smelling of its native mud.
The valiant Gloster at the army's head,
Drawn as the glorious Macedonian youth;
In battle galloping o'er hills of dead,
Would glow with such an air of truth!—
Not on a jackass mounted, but a steed
Of old Bucephalus's breed.
