Distrest for those he never saw—
Of kings and nobles not in awe,
He scorns their mandates, and their law.
Relief he finds for others' woes—
The wants of all the world he knows—
His boots are only out at toes.
Now, Europe's feuds distract his brains:
Now, Asia's news his head contains—
But still his labour for his pains.
The river Scheldt he opens wide,
And Joseph's ships in triumph ride,—
The Dutchmen are not on his side.
On great affairs condemned to fret,—
The interest on our foreign debt,
He hopes good Louis may forget.
He fears the banks will hurt our trade;
And fall they must—without his aid—
Meanwhile his taylor goes unpaid.
Our western posts, which Britons keep
In spite of treaties, break his sleep—
He plans their capture—at one sweep.
He grumbles at the price of flour,
And mourns and mutters, many an hour,
That congress have so little power,
Although he has no ships to lose,
The Algerines he loves to abuse—
And hopes to hear—some bloody news.
The French (he thinks) will soon prepare
To undertake some grand affair—
So 'tis but war "we need not care."