At the hot looks of would-be Lords, that lust to own her charms.
Casting about for shelter she draws where, hand in hand,
Fair England and Columbia, proud child, proud mother, stand:
Time was upon each other they had turned less friendly eyes,
But of late both have grown wiser than let angry passions rise.
To the side of stout Britannia I see scared Turkey creep,
Though Britannia lifts no finger her foes at bay to keep:
But, for all her quiet bearing, there is something in her air
That brings to mind the good old saw, "Of sleeping dogs beware!"
Twelve struck—and I saw grey Old Time his wassail-bowl uprear,