As Neddy 'twixt two wisps of hay;
Heedless of Britain and of France,
Smokes on—and looks to the main chance.
And sure the solace thou canst give
Must make thy fame unrivalled live,
So long as men can temper clay
(For as thou art, e'en so are they),
The sun mature the Indian weed,
And rolling years fresh sorrows breed.
From The Meteors, London.