Then false and hollow friends retire,
Nor yield one sigh to soothe despair;
Whilst crowds triumphant Vice admire,
Whilst Harlots shine in robes that deck’d the Great and Fair.
Guard our famed Chief to Britain’s strand!
Britain, our last, our deadliest foe:
Oh, guard his brave associate band!
A band to slaughter train’d, and “nursed in scenes of woe”.
What shame, alas! one little Isle
Should dare its native laws maintain!