They paint him better than I can,
Wabbling from side to side.
“Each hour a different face he wears,
Now in a fury, now in tears,
Now laughing, now in sorrow,
Now he’ll command, and now obey,
Bellows for liberty to-day,
And roars for power to-morrow.
“At noon the Tories had him tight,
With staunchest Whigs he supped at night,