No talent imagined except in himself;
Of the merits of others a censor severe,
Even Wellington might not escape from his sneer;
But they trusted him still, not suspecting his plan,
Ah, little they knew of the dark little man!
Next a General's apparel he put on, so new,
The coat of fine scarlet, the facings of blue,
With gold all embroider'd so costly; and last
The loop with the plume that waved high in the blast,
'Twould have vex'd you at heart, if such sights ever can,