For harmony enlisted,
"Threw all the fat into the fire,"
(As Mrs. Wilde express'd it.)
The blundering dogs began to sing,
With all their might and energies,
"God preserve our noble King,
And confound his enemies!"
Oh, the Brutes! the Queen was well nigh fainting,
And would have blush'd, if one could blush beneath three coats of painting.
In anger, for her coach she roar'd,