Fired with new hopes, the exulting peasant sees
The Gallic streamer woo the British breeze;
While, pleased to watch its undulating charms,
The smiling infant[80] spreads his little arms.
Ye Sylphs of Death! on demon pinions flit
Where the tall Guillotine is rais'd for Pitt:
To the pois'd plank tie fast the monster's back,
Close the nice slider, ope the expectant sack;
Then twitch, with fairy hands, the frolic pin—
Down falls the impatient axe with deafening din;