Sees Him, for whom they work the treacherous task, With face, scarce half conceal'd, behind their mask, Fat, fifty-eight, and frisky, still a beau, Grasping a half-made match, by _Leech_-light go; Led by a passion, prurient, blind, and batter'd, Lame, bloated, pointless, flameless, age'd and shatter'd; Creeping, like Guy Fawkes, to blow up his wife, Whom, spurn'd in youth, he dogs through after-life. Scorn'd, exiled, baffled, goaded in distress, She owes her safety to a fearless Press: With all the freedom that it makes its own, It guards, alike, the people and their throne; While fools with darkling eye-balls shun its gaze, And soaring villains scorch beneath its blaze. {044} [Illustration: 052] INDIGNATION. The day will soon come, when 'the Judge and the Ponderer,' Will judge between thee, and the charge-daring 'Wanderer Will say--'Thou who cast the first stone at thy wife, Art thou without sin, and is spotless _thy_ life?' Ah! what if _thy_ faults should 'outrival the sloe,' And thy wife's, beside thine, should look 'whiter than snow'! Bethink thee! the old British Lion awoke, Turns indignant, and treads out thy bag-full of smoke. Spurn thy minions--the traitors, who counsel thee, banish; And the soldiers will quickly forget all their _Spanish!_ {045} [Illustration: 053] CORONATION. Shakspeare says, in King John, it's a curse most abhorrent, That '_Slaves_ take the humours of Kings for a warrant.' A more _useful_ truth never fell from his pen, If Kings would apply it like sober-bred men. The Slaves of _your_ will, will make your reign, in History, A misrule of force, folly, taxing, and mystery: Indulging your wish for what, with law,'s incompatible, For the present, they've render'd your crown not come-at-able; And the tongues of old women and infancy wag, With, 'He call'd for his crown--and they gave him the _Bag!_' {046} [Illustration: 054] DEGRADATION. To this have they brought thee, at last! {047} Exposed thee, for all men to see! Ah, surely, their pandering shall quickly be past:-- 'How wretched their portion shall be! 'Derision shall strike them forlorn, 'A mockery that never shall die: 'The curses of hate and the hisses of scorn, f Shall follow wherever they fly; 'And proud o'er their ruin for ever be hurl'd, 'The laughter of triumph, the jeers of the world!' THE END [Illustration: 055] {048} [Illustration: 056] THE JOSS AND HIS FOLLY,