For North was still the greatest man.
Our empire was too wide and great,
And too unwieldy—and what not!
But North, our tailor of the state,
Clip’d it, as Umbrage would a coat.
A truth from which we scorn to swerve.
The more we lose, the more we gain;
And trade and treasures only serve,
To foster pride, and care, and pain.
But ah, how vain is human hope!