As he imagined to allay
The nation’s ire, he seized the last
Last copy of the Bill, as read,
Just ere the noble premier fled.
“Be this,” he cried, as he wing’d his flight
“My welcome gift in the house to night,
Though poison to me is this odious bill,
Fram’d by Whigs in power, to rat like this,
For conservative ends so noble is,
It would stain not the purest of those who still