Yet still he kept his stern, unalter’d mien,
While battering the Whigs and Tories black and blue.
Thy ravings, Goulburn, to no theme were fix’d.
Not ev’n thy virtue is without its spots;
With piety thy politics were mix’d,
And now they courted Peel, now call’d on Doctor Watts.
With drooping jaw, like one half-screw’d,
Lord Johnny sate in doleful mood,
And for his Secretarial seat,
Sent forth his howlings sad, but sweet