I guess she wishes this same tub were Cleopatra's barge,
Or something broad and beamy that won't easily capsize.
Austria's staring with a look of agonized surprise.
And Italy's dumfoundered. Sit down, boy! you're tempting fate.
These days are trying ones, for us, 'tis worse than Forty-Eight.
Then there were winds and whirlpools, but no Socialistic Sea
Sweeping all shores, and threatening International anarchy.
And with its waves you're wantoning, and wobbling up and down,
Indifferent to our stomachs,—as regardless of your Crown.
Upon my honour it's too bad. Noblesse oblige, you know,