John, in the bustle, thought Joe’s Head had tumbled, And ’mongst the Ladies furbelows was jumbled. The poor Madames, arrested in their flight, Were sprawling in the Street, in woeful plight-- Screaming, and fainting, prostrate sought protection, ’Midst Hussars pillaging in all direction, Such struggling, rifling, squeezing, ’mongst the Folks, Whiskers, Mustachios, Petticoats, and Cloaks. When John, in eager search, fell oddly flat on Madame Gazon,[105] with Marshal Jourdon’s Baton; This charming Woman, tho’ a General’s Wife, Would much give up, in hopes to save her Life; And tho’ a careful Guardian of her honour, Freely resign’d whate’er John found upon her. Who rais’d the fair, and saw where she had sat, Not Joey’s Head, ’tis true, but bit of Hat. John, who had long on Glory anxious bent, This Day succeeded to his heart’s content: Honour, renown, he fairly now bespoke, For this Day’s job had been a lucky Stroke. Joe’s Head was gone, no doubt--but what of that? He’d got the Baton, and the bit of Hat; So from the noise, and tumult in the Street, He led the lovely Lady, and her Suite; And in full hopes by politesse to win her, Gave Her poor Joey’s Bed, and Joey’s Dinner. The Battle o’er, the French to flight resign’d ’em, } Running as if the Devil was behind ’em,-- } Field-pieces left to those who’d luck to find ’em. } And there I leave the Cowards to their fate, Whilst I of other matters shall relate. The Victory gain’d, the Chieftain sought repose, When John in modest accents did disclose His great exploits, the wond’rous Feats he’d done-- The Trophies that he had so nobly won. The Chief, astonish’d, look’d with much amaze on The Baton, bit of Hat, and Madame Gazon. The noble Chief in contemplation Sat, Admir’d the Dame, and archly touch’d the Hat: Tho’ at her charms in secret look’d askance, He, great, like Scipio, sent her back to France. And then, his humble duty to evince, Would send the Hat, and Baton, to the Prince. The Baton would be, in his Country’s Eyes, Deem’d both a noble, and a glorious Prize; And, p’rhaps, in spite of rumour, and of Chat, Some Folks might like a bit of Royal Hat. ‘_Newcome_ should have the honour to present, ‘The Hat and Baton to the Prince Regent; ‘Relate of Cannon taken, and the Pelf,[106] ‘The Victory would best explain itself.’ And now, almost as quick as I can tell, John found himself once more in dear Pall Mall. But, as he’d not from usual custom vary, In Chaise and Four, called on the Secretary.