But, wearied out, poor Johnny ceas’d complaining;
Grown used to suffer Insolence and Pillage
In every beastly town and dirty Village;
To see Religion made the tool of Knaves;
To crush morality, and nourish Slaves.
As now to Salamanca near John drew,
Pleas’d that to Portugal he’d bid adieu,
Was told to hasten—there might be a Fight,
The Hostile foes were in each other’s sight:
With British ardour thrilling thro’ each vein;