Verse 1
Has he a British heart, who sees
Unmov’d the foul indignities,
The scorn, and obloquy, and shame
Pour’d on The most respected name?
Who hears the taunts and insults rude
Of the blaspheming multitude,
Those eccho’s of the lawless great
Who curse the virtue which they hate.
Verse 2
But lo, the men who most decried
And as a Tyrant vilified,
His warmest advocates in place
Are turn’d, and loudest in his praise!
Sh[elburne] his goodness magnifies,
And F[ox] extols it to the skies,
And all the Patriot-king allow,
For why? his eyes are open’d now.
Verse 3
Open’d indeed, but what to see?
His own distress and poverty,
Open’d, like Adam’s, by his fall,
To see himself quite stript of all!
To see the fawning, threatning band
Who bow his neck to their command,
Pluck their exalted Monarch down,
And every jewel from his crown!
Verse 4
What do they to their Sovereign leave
Of power, or of prerogative?
Themselves by actions they declare
Sole arbiters of peace and war:
Their privilege is To create
The public Servants of the state,
Preclude their King’s superfluous voice,
And fix upon Themselves the choice.
Verse 5
His Rights they challenge for their own,
And honors flow from Them alone:
Disposers of the Royal Grants,
They tell him just how much he wants
Sell his Estates, and kindly show
On whom he pensions shall bestow,
And how his messages indite,
And order his own house aright.
Verse 6
While thus they lead him in a string,
They praise the good, obedient King:
But if, remembring what he was,
He once begins to feel his loss,
But if he offers to resume—
Send him to Germany, or Rome,
Away with him across the seas,
To banquet with his Holiness!